


Time of Our Own

by cellofreakmd



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Family Issues, Grief/Mourning, Horses Perpetuating Violence, Unplanned Pregnancy, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:22:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellofreakmd/pseuds/cellofreakmd
Summary: Peggy Hampton learns she's pregnant and her life will never be the same. After moving West in a flurry of anger and grief, she meets the man behind the wanted poster.How will she navigate being pregnant alone in a new town? How will Arthur cope with his pregnant new friend?
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so my last story kinda fell apart on me! I really like where I see this going, so I hope you'll be patient with me. And patient with Peggy! I was really nervous about creating an original character, but I like her a lot and I hope you will too. 
> 
> Please enjoy and be kind. God I'm so nervous lmao

Peggy awoke with a scream as her nightmare came with her into the waking world. The smoke from the house fire that terrorized her dream seemed to linger in the back of her throat, choking her and leaving her breathing ragged as she tried to calm down. She blinked up at the ceiling as the day around her became clearer. The sun was faintly glowing behind the curtains and a few birds had started their daily songs. The imagined heat of the blaze left her dark curls plastered to her forehead in sweat. She propped herself up on her elbow and winced into her hand as the adrenaline faded and she became aware of the discomfort in her body.

It had been a while since she had felt this poorly, this exhausted and nauseated. She considered the calendar as she blotted sweat from her brow. It had been, what? Two months since her last period? The realization made her stomach churn. Whether her nausea was because of her late period or merely her fear of pregnancy remained to be seen, as her calculations were interrupted by her bedroom door flying open.

“Margaret! I heard you scream!” Her mother exclaimed, panting in the now open doorway, her hair still disheveled from her own sleep. Peggy’s mind reeled as she tried to process a response to the outburst. “Mother, I... I am quite safe. Merely a nightmare.” She steeled herself and sat up, smoothing her nightdress as she went. She forced a smile to her mother’s face, wrinkled with worry. “You look positively green! Are you sure you are well?” 

“Yes, yes, I am well. My stomach is a bit uneasy, is all.”

“Your stomach? Was it the chicken last night? Do you need breakfast? Let me fetch you some tea.” Her mother’s helpful mind fluttered away with suggestions and Peggy attempted to chase it. “Mother, I do not need tea, it wasn’t the chicken. My stomach is simply —“ 

And with her protests, Peggy retched all over her mother’s slippers. Mrs. Hampton’s chatter sputtered to a halt as the vomit splattered onto the floor. She blinked and kicked off her sodden shoes. “So... tea then?” She smiled and nodded as if to answer her own question. She turned to leave, calling for the housekeeper to clean up Margaret’s room. Peggy stared at the mess she had created, wondering if this was only the beginning of one larger than she could ever imagine.

Peggy quickly dressed herself, eager to escape the smell of the room, lest she vomit again. She wore a plain yellow dress and tied her long, dark hair into a tight bun on top of her head, save for the small curls that spilled out around her face. Her dress hid her true intentions for the morning under the skirt: riding breeches. 

She needed to go to the barn to see Felicity, her beloved Thoroughbred. And she needed to see Ben. 

Her mother called for her as Peggy approached the back door. “Margaret,” her southern vowels thick and sweet like the honey she was putting in Peggy’s tea, “where do you think you’re going without first having some tea for that upset stomach?” Peggy leaned briefly in the doorway. “To the barn, Mama. I need some air, then I shall gladly take your tea.” She had already opened the backdoor when her mother had begun protesting, had already closed it behind her when her mother cursed her insolence. 

Lexington in March is a fickle beast. Some days are reminiscent of June and others of December. It’s easy to wonder sometimes if March has an identity of its own, and most days, it doesn’t. The air Peggy stepped into today, however, was fragrant and warm. The cherry trees along the trail to the barn were beginning to bloom, the pale pink petals glistening under their dew in the sun. The sun had yet to rise above the horse barn and made it look like a dandelion at the end of the summer with its hazy glow, sending rays of light shooting out onto the morning fog like fuzz on a breeze.

Peggy’s boots squelched in the mud in front of the barn as she pushed the wooden door down its track. The barn was barely open before she was tugging the hem of her dress over her head. Her breeches clung to her hips and her thighs stretched at the seams of these men’s pants she had traded a stable boy a pie for. She pulled the extra shirt out of a bucket that she hid for her rides. She lifted the shirt over her head, but it was quickly snatched by a hand behind her. 

“Getting dressed so soon, Peg?” Ben’s low voice rumbled into her neck. She dropped her arms in front of her when she realized the witness to her disrobing was the man who had disrobed her many, many times. “Benjamin,” she exhaled, turning to face him. “We might have trouble, my dear.” He arched a dark, inquisitive eyebrow at her and slid his hands around her exposed midriff. “Oh? And what kind of trouble is this?” She sucked in her bottom lip. 

“I’m late.”

He pressed his lips thin and blinked. “How late is late?”

She frowned. “Two months.”

He blinked again and his eyes searched her face, refusing to reveal his thoughts. Her eyebrows furrowed at the perceived emptiness on his face.

He turned away from her and left the barn. 

Her hands instinctively reached out for him. Her breath was shallow and quick, her cheeks slack with panic. 

The air hung heavy and the seconds passed like they were moving through molasses, solid and sticky. The ten seconds Ben had left the barn had Peggy feeling sick all over again. 

Just as the bile was threateningly rising in her chest, Ben’s sturdy shoulders darkened the door frame once more.The light followed him as he stepped inside, each footfall landing purposefully closer to her. The light bent around his face as he knelt in front of her, coming out of the shadow. He lifted his hand to reveal a blade of grass tied into a loop, the knot on top like an ornament. 

“Peg,” he said, looking up at her with a sad sort of smile, “I will do right by you… by both of you. I don’t have a real ring for you, and I know this isn’t the life your family wanted for you, but all that is mine is yours. We can get the hell out of Lexington, out of Kentucky, and no one will be the wiser that old man Hampton’s daughter got in trouble with the stable boy. We can be a family. I love you, Peg.. marry me.” 

She searched his face as he spoke. His autumn honey-colored eyes shone with love and sincerity, wrinkling in the corners after a short but demanding life in the barn. He lifted a hand to brush a lock of flaxen hair away from his face, keeping his eyes on her. 

Her emotion overwhelmed her. “Ben, I-“ she tried to answer. “I…” He seemed to find amusement in her stuttering. 

“Say yes, Peg. There’s nothing else to say.” 

She strained a smile. “I’m trying…” 

“Then what’s the problem?” He finally stood, Peggy’s hesitance concerning him.

“I feel…” she exhaled quickly. “I feel like…” 

Ben’s eyebrows furrowed as he reached for her hand. 

She quickly pulled away from him and ran to the barn door. Her hands fell to her knees as she vomited again… and again… and again. Ben watched her with confusion and concern. 

She stood up and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, then grinned.. “So when are we getting married?” 

Ben seemed to fly over to her and scooped her up. He swung her around like she weighed nothing. They both screamed with laughter until they caught each other’s eyes. The gravity of their decision hit them both in the same moment that gravity pulled Peggy’s feet back into the hay of the barn floor. He smiled tentatively at her.

“By the end of the week?”

Her eyes widened. “That’s so soon.”

He gently placed a calloused hand on her belly, still bare from being interrupted while changing. “Our time is not our own, love.” 

She nodded and placed her hands over his. “Friday it is.”

They smiled at each other once more and time moved slowly again. Peggy was the one to end the moment, however, saying “Nevertheless, I am still in desperate need of a good ride.” Ben chuckled and reached for his belt. “Well, if you insist, Peg!” She glowered at him playfully. “I need to ride my  _ horse.  _ You know, the one my mother thinks I’m riding when I come to the barn?” 

He pursed his lips with embarrassment. “Ah yes, the horse. Of course. I just thought, that since the mess has already been made, and come Friday, we’ll be-“ he bargained. 

“My saddle, Ben.” She interrupted, laughing at his impertinence. 

“Of course, Miss Hampton,” he winked, leaving to fetch her tack. 

They saddled up together and rode out toward the creek. Felicity, Peggy’s horse, glided over the dew-laden grass and in between the old oak trees. Her chestnut coat sparkled ginger in the still-rising sun. The morning air was warm, but the faster Felicity moved, the colder Peggy became. The exhaustion of the morning had not left her, and by the time they reached the creek, her legs felt like limp noodles. 

“Has pregnancy made you soft, Peg?” Ben teased as she dismounted. She rolled her eyes. “I had a nightmare last night… and besides, you tell me you would feel yourself when you can’t hold a thing down your gullet.” He chuckled, took her hand, and sat beside her in the grass. “What could possibly haunt that pretty little head of yours?” She frowned, recalling the dream. 

“I was in a house, a small one, that I’ve never seen before. People were yelling… lots of people… men, I think. Then everything was on fire. I tried to leave, but I kept feeling like I was leaving something behind. I was evidently very distraught, but I can’t remember quite what the forgotten thing was.”

Ben nodded pensively at the slowly moving creek. “Let’s avoid small houses then, hmm?” He gave her hand a squeeze. “That reminds me!” He exclaimed, shaking her hand a bit in his flurry of thought. “Where shall we go? You, me, and little Maggie?” She smiled and squeezed his hand in return. “St. Louis could be nice… or we could go train New York horses… stick with what you know.” 

Ben snorted. “Horse people up north will know who we are. We would be better off ranching somewhere out west.” Peggy pondered this for a moment. “We could always go to Montana. Catch some Broncos, send them back to Kentucky.” 

“I say,” Ben said, standing. “That we sign some papers and hop on the first train west. We’ll figure something out.” He reached his hand down to pull Peggy up. She took his hand, but pulled him down. He stumbled over her and searched her face for an explanation. She smirked. “I’ll take that ride now.” His eyes widened with excitement. “Say no more.” He stifled any opportunity she had to say more with a kiss.

~~

Wednesday passed uneventfully. Peggy could hardly contain her secret, but this problem was avoided by her mother’s insistence that she rest in bed after her vomiting spells. She tried to enjoy what had quickly become her future… the baby, moving West… and Ben. Ben, Ben, Ben. The short syllable rolled off her tongue so easily. She smiled sleepily and let herself luxuriate in his full name. “Benjamin Wright,” she whispered. “Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Wright.” Life would be different than her own raising, and probably harder, but she glowed with the promise of her future with Ben and whoever her morning sickness turned out to be. She sighed and stretched on the bed. Her joy was short-lived, though, as she quickly rolled over to vomit again.

~~

She woke up Thursday with a sense of anticipation. Today was her last day at home, her last day as Margaret Hampton. She sat up out of bed and glanced around her room, daylight already streaming around the heavy curtains. Her eyes flit over her dressers and trinkets. Her decisions today must be what is worth carrying with her and what must stay behind. She noticed her stomach seemed more settled today than it had the past several days. She smiled and patted her tummy. “Thank you, love,” she whispered down her chest. 

She let her feet slide over the side of her bed and fall into her awaiting slippers. Her nightgown followed her legs down, the hem floating through the air around her ankles. She hummed to herself as her feet glided over the hardwood floor. She toyed with a necklace, tried on a ring. “I suppose if I can wear it out, it doesn’t count as packing,” she cooed quietly to no one but the baby. She had spent much of her time since discovering her pregnancy alone, but she had felt remarkably accompanied, knowing that somewhere in her, deep and dark, she was growing the best friend she would ever have. 

She was lost in the shimmer of her own jewelry when an urgent knock came on her door. “Miss Hampton, may I come in?” came the voice of Mrs. Hill, the Hamptons’ trusted housekeeper. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Hill.” Peggy’s attention barely broke from the pearl ring she put on her own finger beside the wilted band of grass as the older woman stormed into the room. “You must come outside, there’s been an accident,” she panted. “Mr. Wright, he’s hurt.” Peggy blinked and looked up, finally realizing there was something else that required her attention more pressing than what jewelry she would wear out into her new life. 

She focused her eyes on Mrs. Hill’s face. “Mr. Wright? Ben’s been hurt?” 

“Yes ma’am, you should come at once,” Hill said over her shoulder, turning to lead Peggy to the barn. 

“What happened? Is he okay?” Peggy called as she jogged behind her.

“A horse, ma’am. He was shoeing a new horse and it caught him with a kick.” 

Peggy swallowed hard as they reached the back door. She stopped Mrs. Hill as she reached for the door knob. “Hill,” she asked quietly. “Why did you fetch me?” 

Mrs. Hill gave a small, sad smile. “Peggy, it does not take a great philosopher to see two young people in love… merely a laundress with an eye on the barn who hasn’t seen bloody sheets in two months.” Peggy turned white, to which Hill chuckled and touched her arm. “It’s quite alright, Peggy, but really, you should attend to Ben.” She nodded and finally pushed through the back door. 

The distance between the back door and the barn that would take merely a few minutes at a leisurely stroll was closed within 30 seconds as Peggy kicked off her slippers and tore across the yard. She skidded into the soggy barn lot, the mud squelching between her toes, as she eyed the small crowd that had formed around Ben.

“Where is he?” she called, trying to push through the stable hands surrounding him. 

One turned to her advance. “Miss Hampton, you shouldn’t see-” 

She shook her head tightly in dismissal. “Where is he? Let me through.” 

He held his hands defensively in front of him “Miss Hampton, I-”

“ _ Let! Me! THROUGH!” _ a voice she did not immediately recognize as her own rang out through the barn, dispersing the crowd with the sheer determination of it. 

The bodies parted, and there lay Ben, a coat balled up under his slack head. She was on the ground with him before she knew it. His shirt had been ripped open to reveal a U-shaped splattering of blood and bruise on his chest, the bone underneath giving way unnaturally. His ribs were concave, their points and edges sticking out of the very softness they were intended to protect. 

“Ben,” she pled, the tears spilling softly from her eyes, “Ben, Ben, Ben...speak to me, honey” 

His eyelids fluttered in recognition, but he did not produce a sound. She realized his ribs had probably punctured his lung.

“Ben, please,” she repeated, her voice growing more urgent as tears fell quicker now. “Stay with me, love,”

A tear plopped onto his face. He did not react. His ragged breathing became undetectable. 

“Ben,” she begged. “You can’t leave me, Ben. You can’t leave me like this. You have to marry me tomorrow, remember? You promised me. You promised us.  _ Benjamin Wright, you cannot leave me _ .” 

Her voice was unrecognizable again as she screamed that Ben had to stay. She looked up to the many sets of worried eyes. “ _ Why do you continue to stare?”  _ she wailed. “ _ Where is the doctor? Someone get the god damned doctor!”  _

The man who had attempted to stop her before spoke up “Miss Hampton, the doctor is on his way. There’s nothing else we can do for him until he gets here.” 

She swallowed, and with that, seemed to swallow her sense of reality. Her frantic eyes darted back to Ben’s paling face. She rubbed at his freckled cheeks. “Benny, I can never tell what are freckles and what is dirt with you. Always in the muck and hay.” Her thumb stroked his cheekbones, the ones that used to charm her as they cut an angle under the brim of his hat. She smoothed his dark hair away from his face as an eerie calm settled over her. “We just have to wait for the doctor,” she said, never breaking from Ben. “It’ll all be okay.” 

Time was lost on Peggy, but eventually, her father and the doctor showed up. The doctor went immediately to his patient, dropping to his knees with a stethoscope. He placed the apparatus on what was left of Ben’s chest, then looked up at Peggy and the crowd with a grave expression. “I’m afraid he’s already gone.” 

Peggy was still smiling sweetly, staring at Ben. “No.” Her tone was southern sweet and light, as if the doctor had asked if she wanted some tea. He stared up at her. “Ma’am, his heart is no longer-” “Check it again.” She said, catching his eyes with a smile. The doctor glanced around at the crowd, as if to verify that they were hearing the same woman. He received no reassurance from their audience, so he checked Ben’s heart again. “Ma’am, he has died.” 

The reality that Peggy had swallowed earlier came roaring back as an inhuman noise escaped from her throat. She snatched the stethoscope from the doctor and shoved it in her own ears. She slapped the diaphragm all over Ben’s bloody chest like she was chasing a mouse across a kitchen counter. For a split second, she thought she had found his heartbeat. It pulsed in her ears, strong and fast. She ripped off the stethoscope to tell the doctor he was wrong, that Ben was healthy as the horse that had kicked him, but that was when she realized she could hear the heartbeat without the device. The heartbeat was her own. 

“ _ Ma’am, he has died.” _

The doctor’s words echoed in her thoughts and quickly became the only thought she was capable of having. Any air left in her body was releasing in a blood-curdling scream, the kind of sound that would make one believe Peggy was the one dying, not Ben. Unable to imagine the world without him, Peggy’s mind did what it could to follow him. She collapsed onto his body, her last memory before blacking out being Ben’s natural scent of earth and hay, tinged with the metallic sting of blood. 

~~

She dreamt she was in the house again. The smoke filled her lungs and she tried to scream, but she couldn’t. Three little letters, one syllable, trapped behind the ash and smog;  _ Ben _ . Her face was wet with sweat and tears and her whole body was torched with grief. She was content to lay there and burn, but as she gasped in pain, her body found the air to scream.

She bolted upright in her bed. The room swam around her but steadily came into focus. As it did, Peggy noticed her mother sitting in the corner. “Mother,” she muttered, confused. “Margaret.” came Mrs. Hampton’s stern response. Peggy furrowed her brow. “Mother, what’s the matter?” Mrs. Hampton gave a smile with no warmth or joy at all. “You never took tea with your Mother.” Peggy was 18, but still close enough to childhood to recognize an ass-chewing when it’s coming down the pike. She exhaled and sat up stiffly. “Shall we go downstairs?” Her mother shook her head and walked towards her with a teacup. “I came up with tea.” Peggy nodded and waited for whatever was in store for her.

“Mr. Wright was a good man and a good worker,” she began. 

Peggy’s stomach churned at the thought of Ben. 

“He will surely be missed.” 

Peggy nodded. 

“It seems some will miss him more than others, hmm, Margaret?” 

Peggy pressed her lips into a thin line. “Mother, I-”

“Vomiting spells? Exhaustion?”

“Mother, I-”

“ ‘you were supposed to marry me tomorrow’? ‘You promised  _ us _ ,’ Margaret?” she pressed.

“Mother, I-”

“ _ The stable boy, Margaret? _ ” Mrs. Hampton sneered, her voice rising.

“ _ Do not mock me!” _ Peggy’s voice cracked as she screamed.

“Mock you? Margaret, you have mocked yourself! You have gotten in trouble in a  _ god-damned stable boy. _ You make a mockery of yourself and the Hampton family name. What was your grand scheme? To run away and marry him? Have your bastard baby in some run-down shack of a place? All because you love him?  _ Love will not feed you.  _ Love will not clothe the body that you have given away so freely.” Mrs. Hampton stood and dusted her skirts. “I hope you’re happy. I hope you’ll enjoy being Ben Wright’s widow; you certainly won’t be a Hampton much longer.”

The weight of her mother’s last statement hit her like the hoof that made her a near-widow in the first place. Her jaw hung slack, but she could not respond before her mother explained herself.

“You’ll pack a bag and leave with your father for Louisville by 4:30. Your father will return home, but you will catch a train. I don’t care where you go, what you do, or where you stay. We will tell everyone who didn’t hear your outbursts today that you left to see family in Cincinnati for the summer. Once the summer passes, we will tell people you cannot bear to depart with that city of Yankees, sauerkraut, and pigs. You, nor that fatherless parasite inside you, will step ever foot in this house again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mother, please-”

Mrs. Hampton set her jaw. “Do I make myself clear?” she said haltingly through gritted teeth.

Peggy nodded, her hands clenching the sheets below her. 

Her mother nodded matter of factly. “Then pack this room, and pack only what you can carry. You have two hours.”

She marched out of the room without another word, leaving Peggy sitting alone in her bed with her whole life waiting to be thrown into a suitcase and trekked across the Great American West. 

~~

The carriage rolled away from her childhood home as Peggy stared out the back window. Her mother stood on the grand front porch, with its columns and swings, her arms folded across her chest. It could have been a trick of the fading light, but Peggy almost believed she saw her mother frown, maybe even shed a tear. Before she had long to question it, they had turned onto the road, leaving Mrs. Hampton, her porch, and her tears forever behind. 

The fence of the family farm ran along the road for a distance as they rode into town. As Peggy tried to take it in as much as she could, she saw a glint of orange in the setting sun. “Stop the carriage!” she called to the driver. Her father shot her an accusatory glare. “If you’re trying to stay home now-” She dismissed him with her hand. “Felicity! You have to let me say goodbye to Felicity!” The carriage slowed enough for Peggy to jump out and she took off running for the fence, calling for her horse. 

The thoroughbred galloped up, neighing as she went. Peggy buried her face into her mane when she was close enough. Felicity smelled the same way Ben often did; of sun, sweat, and hay. She took a deep breath of that familiar, comfortable smell, letting the warmth of horse and the evening sun seep into her grief. Gone were her days of long rides, hot meals, and comfortable beds. She would have to work to keep herself and her little stowaway fed and warm. Her life as she had known it forever was over. Her grief overwhelmed her. To lose Ben, her plans, her family, and her horse all in one day weighed heavily on her broken heart. It was too much to handle, which allowed her to simply trudge along. Any one of her griefs could destroy her but all of them together? Together, all that feeling left her tangled in a web of cold, empty nothing. 

She pulled away from Felicity’s neck and patted her cheek. “Goodbye, my girl. Maybe someday we will ride again.” She swallowed as she turned away and walked back to the carriage. Her boots sunk into the soft Kentucky clay of the road. The March evening grew colder. She pulled her cloak around her as she climbed back into the carriage. “Drive on,” her father called. Peggy winced as the carriage lurched forward. The pair sat silent, the only sound the crunch of the road under the wooden wheels and the clop of the horses driving them. 

“You know,” her father said, breaking the silence. “If you had spent more time riding that horse instead of the stable boy, maybe we wouldn’t be in this unfortunate circumstance.” His face was pursed in disgust. Peggy smacked her lips. “You know, father,” she said quietly. “If there is any affection for me left in your heart, then please, do me this one last fatherly favor and  _ shut the fuck up _ .” Her tone grew tense and icy. “You’re already throwing me out when I’m pregnant with your grandchild. What else could you possibly stand to gain by being hateful now?”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. 

~~

By the time they arrived at the Louisville train station, night had settled in. The haze of the city lights on the river made the city seem larger than it was, like a mirror that created double the city. The carriage slowed to a stop, and Peggy wordlessly exited. Her father did not dain to be seen with her, his child of exile, and stayed in the carriage. As soon as she had collected her luggage, the two suitcases she could carry for herself, the driver pulled away. Her only connection to her former life drove away unceremoniously into the Louisville night, leaving her grieving, abandoned, and pregnant. 

The gas of the lights made the air heavy and difficult to breath.She choked a little as she tried to calm down and take a deep breath. That sensation made her think of the nightmare, and the nightmare of Ben. The station swam around her, but she forged on to the counter to speak to the station clerk. She gave a tight smile “Yes, hello, what trains are running tonight?” 

The man raised his eyebrows at her. “Where do ya need to go, miss?”

She pressed her lips thin and forced another smile. “That depends on where you can take me. What trains are running?”

He gave her a sideways glance as he checked his books. “We have… Chicago, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Nashville, and Denver all leaving within the next two hours.”

Peggy consulted the map behind the man. “What time is Denver?”

“10 pm. It’s 9 now.” 

“One for Denver, please.” She handed over the money.

He raised his eyebrows again. “Are you sure you’re safe to travel through the night, ma’am?”

Her eyes rolled slow and hard. “Are you going to accompany me all the way west to make sure I’m safe?”

He blanched. 

She gave him a snide look. “That’s what I thought. Have a nice night.” She slid her ticket off the counter defiantly and walked away to explore the rest of the station.

Hung in every which place around the station were tourist-geared posters for Kentucky specialities, like Churchill Downs and the Derby. The Derby was soon, she realized. It would be the first year she would not be around to attend. At least she was spared from wearing those awful hats. There were advertisements for tours of horse country and the caves much further west. There was a lot to see in Kentucky that she, as a local, had never thought to. “What a shame,” she muttered to herself and patting her belly. “Maybe when I come back, I’ll take the kiddo down a cave.”

Eventually, she stumbled upon a board of hastily pinned portraits. Upon further investigation, she realized all of these people were wanted by the law. She read their names and their lists of crimes, varying from horse theft to murder. None of their faces nor names made any particular connection for Peggy until she stumbled on the post for one man, an Arthur Morgan, a member of a gang called “Dutch’s Boys,” wanted for several counts of armed robbery, murder, and fraud. His hat sat cockeyed and his lips were set in a sneer under a thick beard. Despite the artist’s clear attempt to make a nasty man look the part, the man had strikingly bright eyes that made him almost pleasant-looking. She stared a moment longer before hearing the call “The 10 o’clock train to Denver now boarding” echo down the empty hall. She stepped away, but Arthur Morgan’s face remained ingrained into her mind.

She boarded the train after assuaging more concerns over her traveling alone. Many people had concerns, but not a one had any solutions. She didn’t either. She loaded her two bags into the overhead and took a window seat. The train was fairly empty, but not quite as much as Peggy expected for a late-night train into the West. Her fellow passengers were single men and the occasional couple. One old man seemed to doze off the moment he sat down, already snoring before the train rolled away. She heard a quiet  _ chug chug chug _ and felt the car lurch forward. The chugs grew louder and faster, and soon the lights of Louisville faded away into the night. 

The weight of the day crashed around her as she sat alone on the train. It did not seem real that today, the same day she was still living, was the day that Ben had died, the day she planned to pack her bags and prepare to marry him. 

_ Ma’am, he has died. _

_ You, nor that fatherless parasite inside you, will ever step foot in this house again. _

The voices of the day swirled around her head. She exhaled and massaged her temple with her left hand, letting the right side of her head rest of the cool glass of the window. Her emotions threatened to overtake her, but fortunately, sleep got to her first. She drifted gratefully into unconsciousness, the world she knew passing without fanfare in the dark outside. The next time the sun would rise, Peggy Hampton’s new life would begin. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur meets a stranger in a bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this story from Arthur's perspective! I think I'm gonna switch back and forth.

Arthur awoke with a jolt, his bright blue eyes flying open in fear. Nearly every night, he is dragged from his rest to see a small white cabin, two wooden crosses in the yard. He screams for Eliza, for Isaac, bolting upright on his camp cot. Then the gray of the night comes into focus, reality sets in, and Arthur is alone. 

Today was the eighth anniversary of their deaths. He exhaled slowly and let his grief flow through his nostrils. It was a familiar pain, so familiar that it almost provided comfort. It gave him some sick satisfaction to think that he may never awaken peacefully again, much like Eliza and Isaac would never again wake up due to his negligence. He swung his legs over his cot and leaned on his knees. He shook his head, slid into his boots, and stood to start his day.

The horses needed to be fed, the corn moved, and the wood chopped. He knew someone else would do it if he didn’t, but it helped him scratch that masochistic itch by working himself sweating early in the morning.If he was going to be miserable like this, he might as well do something for the good of the camp. Mary-Beth was already awake. She watched him with sleepy green eyes over the rip of her coffee cup. “Good morning, Arthur,” she smiled sweetly. He nodded to her while straining with a hay bale. “Mornin’ to you.” Her face quivered as she tried to hide her schoolgirl reaction to Arthur’s attention. He pretended not to notice. Ms. Gaskill was a kind, intelligent girl. She deserved better than Arthur, his emotional constipation, and the price on his head. 

He tossed the last of the hay near the horses and slapped his hands together. He decided he should ask Dutch and Hosea if they had any work that needed done. It was a lazy morning and he wanted nothing more than to lay back down and let the sun hit his face. However, it was his deep longing for a day off that told him he shouldn’t take one. 

“Arthur, my boy!” Dutch called as Arthur approached him. “What have you planned for this beautiful day?” “Well, that depends on you, I guess” Arthur responded, his accent and deep-seated exhaustion toying with his words. 

Dutch clapped a firm hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “If it’s up to me, you’ll take a day off,” he said, turning his strong chin away from him to give him a sidelong glance. “Go fish with me!” Arthur opened his mouth in protest. “No, no, I will not hear it. You’ll fish with me. That’s an order.” Dutch winked as he walked away to grab their poles. “Hosea!” Dutch called. “Arthur and I are going fishing. I think you should join us.” Hosea looked up from the book he was reading with a smile. “I hear the smallmouth in Flatiron Lake are great this time of morning.” Dutch laughed. “Then I suggest you put that book down and mount up.” 

Arthur felt his face wrinkle at the thought of sitting on the water with Hosea, nothing to do but to sit in the quiet sunlight, nowhere to go to avoid Hosea’s questions. Dutch wouldn’t have invited Arthur to fish if he had not sensed the deep grief within him this morning. And he wouldn’t have invited Hosea if he had planned to let him grieve alone. 

Everyone saddled up. Arthur swung his heavy leg over Boadicea, her dark coat glimmering with flecks of red in the morning sun. She seemed to reflect his melancholy and her dinnerplate hooves trudged through the grass around camp. Dutch’s Arabian paraded his white tail, trotting confidently ahead of them. “Make that mare move, Arthur,” he called behind him. Arthur grunted as Hosea took the middle position. They sped up to a canter as they reached the road and headed toward town.

Blackwater was still nothing more than a few streets, but it was growing fast. There was a tavern and bank, and they had started laying cobblestones on the dirt streets. The city itself seemed aware that it would not be small for long. Arthur watched it as they rode over the hilltop, the three city blocks taking shape from their high vantage point.

They passed the church with its small but ever-growing graveyard. Arthur saw the markers, most of which were wood and would rot away in a season or two. He wondered if their inhabitants would be remembered when the land no longer announced their presence. He shuddered. To most people, it might be terrifying to rot into oblivion when there’s no one left to remember you. To Arthur, the chance to fade away into nothingness felt like a welcome reprieve from the bounty he carried with him. If no one came to his grave, it would mean no one was looking for him. He sighed. 

They finally reached their fishing hole along the edge of the Flatiron, but Arthur was still miles away. He absentmindedly dismounted and grabbed his pole. Hosea’s voice rang through his oppressive thoughts. “ _Arthur,”_ he said, loud and clear. “ _Bread or cheese_?” Arthur’s blue eyes blinked and fluttered back to reality. “I, uh… cheese.” Hosea gave a tight smile, aware that Arthur was emotionally tangled in something dark and deep. They all casted their lines from the shore and a quiet stillness settled over them. 

“It’s a beautiful day to be alive, hmm?” Hosea mused out loud. “I suppose,” Arthur responded gruffly. He felt Hosea glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “What have you to suppose, son?”

Arthur furrowed his brow. “I suppose,” he started, his tone shifting slightly, “that it is a beautiful day to be alive. I am not personally convinced, but I suppose you’re probably right.” 

Hosea gave a sad smile. “You’re doing what you can. You always have.”

Arthur’s eyes darted to Hosea’s face, narrowing in guilt. “You wouldn’t feel obligated to take me fishing today if I  _ had _ done everything I could.”

Hosea’s sad smile fell into a frown. “Arthur…”

Arthur held Hosea’s gaze and set his jaw. “Leave it, Hosea.”

“You can’t just mope…” Hosea started, but Dutch interrupted. “Oh, just leave the boy alone, Hosea! Let him fish and beat himself up in his own time.” 

Arthur gave a defiant smile and recast his line.

The men fished, mostly unsuccessfully, for an hour or two. The heat of the southern West Elizabeth heat was rising with the sun, even in March. Sweat was pooling on Arthur’s forehead beneath the brim of his hat. He sweat enough when he was working; he didn’t want to sweat for leisure. He reeled in his line and collapsed his pole. 

“Leaving so soon?” Hosea asked without turning to face him.

“I need a drink,” Arthur murmured. 

“Don’t get too drunk. I don’t want to bail you out for brawling,” Dutch called. 

Arthur grunted again as Hosea began to grumble at Dutch about enabling him and making light of his situation. Arthur didn’t care enough to listen. 

He and Bouadicea arrived at the Blackwater tavern. She walked herself to the hitching post like she had many times before. He patted her neck and gave her a half-hearted smile. “Yeah… that’s my girl.” She knickered softly as he walked away and into the bar.

The bartender had already poured the whiskey before he reached the bar. Arthur nodded at him as he sat down. “Long day?” the man asked. Arthur scoffed. “Long life.” He chuckled. “Alright then.” 

The day flowed like whiskey from the bottle. By the time dark had settled in, Arthur had nearly forgotten why he had felt the need to drink so heavily. Nearly. The bartender eyed him as Arthur stared into the refracting light from the bottom of the whiskey tumbler. “Why don’t we call it a night, pal?” He felt a fight rise in his throat, but the last sober bit of him knew he needed to eat something to be able to ride back to camp. “Yeah, alright,” Arthur responded, his reluctance giving in. The barkeep smiled at him. “Atta boy! How ‘bout some dinner to sober up?” He nodded his response, and the man returned with a bowl of beef stew. 

The hot broth settled his pickled stomach and helped him return to reality, however unfortunate that felt to him. He knew that getting plastered in his grief was not a solution every night, but sadly, it was tonight. His head began to ache as the world came back into focus. He groaned. The man at the bar smiled at him while wiping out the glass Arthur had been nursing. 

Arthur rolled his eyes.

Just as he had decided to leave, the saloon door swung open. A short, stout woman whose tired face was framed with dark curls scowled as she scanned the room. Her arms were laden with luggage, which she promptly threw to the floor as she made her way to the bar. Her brown eyes were dull with exhaustion, but Arthur recognized something more behind them: grief. She sat beside him without seeming to notice his presence. 

“Dinner and a room, please?” She said, her tone flat and commanding. 

The bartender raised his eyebrow at her. “Dinner, sure, but I don’t rent rooms to single women.”

She rolled her eyes. “And  _ why _ exactly won’t you let me pay for a room?”

He gave her a side-eye while he sat down the dish he was washing. “I don’t know who’s paying  _ you _ for time in that room,” He shrugged. “No offense.”

“You think I’m some  _ god-damned hooker? _ ” The woman’s voice grew understandably hostile and frustrated. The bartender was unmoved but prepared her dinner. “What kind of woman travels alone? And at this hour?” 

She glowered at him, and then at the stew in front of her. “I just want to sleep.” Her voice cracked. “I just want to sleep.” 

Arthur was sober enough now that he knew had to do something. “Sir,” he interjected, “Get the lady a room and put it on my tab.” The bartender shot him an incredulous look. “That does not change the fact that this young lady is dirty, alone, and honestly, quite rude. I don’t care who pays for the room. I’m not renting to her.” Arthur stood up, and luckily, his feet held him. “I’ve sat in your bar, thrown your whiskey back, and eaten your mediocre stew. My consumption tonight alone probably will probably pay your bills for a month.” His voice rose as he spoke. “If you would like me to continue supporting this fine establishment, then give the woman a bed and  _ never _ disrespect her in this way again.” 

His voice echoed through the now silent bar. The keep stared at the wood of the bar itself and mumbled under this breath. Arthur craned his ear toward him. “What was that?” The man mumbled again. “ _ Sir, _ I cannot  _ hear you _ .” Arthur boomed. “ _ 10 cents! _ ” the man snapped. “10 cents and she can have the room.” Arthur gave a tight smile. “That’s what I thought.” He threw down the 10 cents and the rest of the money to cover his tab for the night and walked away from the counter. 

The woman looked alarmed, glancing between Arthur and the barkeep. “I… sir...thank you.” She said quietly. Arthur dipped his hat at her and looked up to meet her eyes. “Enjoy the room. You’ve earned it.” He left her standing at the bar as he turned and left the saloon. 

Bouadicia knickered in recognition as he approached. He patted her neck as his muscle memory carries his limbs over her back. Her heavy feet carried them towards camp without direction. She was used to taking care of a drunk Arthur. 

His mind swam with whiskey and grief, but behind that grew curiousity. Who was that tired, grieving woman in the bar? What sob story brought her out to the backwater of Blackwater? The thought did not linger long, though, and soon he became preoccupied with staying in the saddle. 

He finally rode into camp. Most of its occupants were already asleep, but Arthur heard Javier’s guitar coming from the fire. He threw himself onto his cot, wearing all his clothes, letting the cool March night settle around him as he drifted into a restless sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy collects supplies for her new life.

“ _ Ten cents!”  _ The barkeep screamed. The man who had been drinking at the bar smiled a cold smile and the violence that had boiled over into his face faded from well-worn features. “That’s what I thought.” He threw his money on the counter without ceremony and turned to leave. Peggy felt her voice rise in her throat on its own. “I…. uh,” she stuttered as he stopped in his tracks. “Thank you.” He turned to face her and dipped his hat to her. “Enjoy the room. You’ve earned it.” As he raised his hat, he fixed his eyes on her face. 

Those eyes. Something about the ice of his iris clicked in Peggy’s memory, but the exhaustion of days of travel left her unable to make the connection. She searched his face for any other indication. He held her eyes for a brief moment then turned and walked out of the bar. She stood breathless and still. 

Moments passed, then the bartender broke the silence. “Do you want the stew or not?” Peggy blinked and came back into herself. “I uh… yeah, yes.” She sat down, her dark eyes still far away with confusion. She looked to the tender and narrowed her gaze. “Where’s the stable around here?” He glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “You need a horse?” 

“I need a job.” she said flatly. 

The man laughed. “Lady, I don’t know where you’re from, but no one wants a woman mucking horseshit around here.” 

Peggy’s features hardened. “Sir, what’s your name?”

He cocked his head. “Sam Malone.” 

She smiled and leaned back. “Mr. Malone, let me tell you something.” Her tone was light and sweet, concealing the venom of the words. “I did not leave Kentucky and sit for days on a train after leaving my home and family for the last time to come to this backwater bar and have my every decision questioned by some halfwit, shit-for-brains whiskey thrower who only takes his mama’s breast from his mouth long enough to call me a whore.” Her voice has risen and echoed off the wall behind Malone. She smiled again and batted her eyes. “So please, Sam, where’s the stable?” 

Malone blanched. “It’s uh… on the west side of town.” She patted the hand he left on the bar. “You’re too sweet.” She glanced down at her bowl. “I do believe I’ve finished my stew and I’ll be headed to my room now.” She pushed the bowl toward him and stood up straight. She hefted her own bags into her arms again and headed for the stairs. Sam did not move, the weight of Peggy’s barbs holding him in place. 

The stairs seemed to stretch to heaven as she lugged her bags up them. There were times she would forget she was pregnant. This was not one of those times. Her body was tired and aching. The tiny life that would fit in the palm of her hand felt like a river stone in her abdomen, dragging down her middle until she would lay down and melt into the earth. Her joints were weary and stiff, her legs wooden like stairs she walked on. She eventually reached the top, but not without spending the last bit of energy she had left. She looked down the stairs to see Sam watching her. She smiled at him defiantly, determined to not let him see her huff. 

She opened her room and promptly threw down hur luggage. She locked the door behind her and leaned against it. The silence of the room, the quiet dark of it all, enveloped her. This was the first moment she had been truly alone since she had left Kentucky. Here she was, in a tiny town that she picked arbitrarily on a map in the Denver station. Something about the name of the town called to her, as if going to a place called Blackwater would let her escape the murky tide of her emotions as they ebbed and flowed between anger, grief, depression, and hope. She felt tears well in her eyes and she blinked slowly. 

She lit the lantern on the dresser and a haze glowed over the room. The accommodations were less than luxurious, but compared to the train cars she had been sleeping in, she would take anything she could get. She stripped off her clothes and collapsed onto the sheets. She was snoring before she had the chance to fluff her pillows or extinguish the lantern.

~~~~~

She woke up to a dark, unfamiliar room. The moonlight glowed faintly behind the thin curtain, but the sun had yet to rise.  _ The time change _ , Peggy thought to herself. It was easily 8 am to her body, but local time was 6. She scanned her body, wondering if she should get up. She could lay here longer and no one would mind. Her legs felt like sunken stones, but she forced them to swing over the side of the lumpy mattress. “Rise and shine baby o’mine,” she whispered softly. 

She pulled a clean dress out of her bag and pulled it over her head. Her hair was an unruly mess of snarls and curls tied into themselves. She ran a comb hastily through it, taming it just enough to tie it up on top of her head. Her eyes looked tired and bleak. She considered putting some powder over her face to hide her exhaustion, but she had no one to impress. She tied her riding boots around her ankles tightly enough to be secure. She gave herself a half-smile in the mirror, grabbed her bags, then carried everything down the stairs. 

The bar was empty but the sun was starting to filter through the window. Shadows of tables and chairs stretched across the bartered floor, their hazy forms giving the illusion of company in the bar. Peggy looked into darkened doorways for someone to tell goodbye before she left but found no one. She shrugged and stepped through the door.

The humidity sat in Peggy’s chest as she took a breath outside. West Elizabeth got warmer faster than Kentucky did, and the March air was already heavy and sticky. She groaned and cleared her throat, wondering why in the world she picked here of all places. She stepped lightly down the stairs and onto the cobblestones and made her way toward the stable.

Town was still asleep, but a few men rode by, dressed for a day of manual labor. The jobs in Blackwater were mostly construction or in shipping, but some of the shops Peggy passed were indicative of money somewhere. She would need to get money somehow, but she had enough to get by for the moment.

The barn sat at the end of a street that had faded from cobblestone to dirt. The door was cracked open, so she wedged her hips and threw it the rest of the way open. It was a sizable arrangement, but nothing compared to the stable she left in Lexington. It would do for now. 

Her reflection was interrupted by a gruff stable boy who leaned out of a stall. “Whatchu want?” He mumbled. “Good morning,” Peggy smiled, “I’d like to purchase a horse.” The man spit near her feet. “Ain’t got one.” Peggy blinked. “Behind you?” 

“Not for sale.”

“This gelding here?”

“Already sold.”

“What about this big boy behind me?” Peggy turned to the large black workhorse that was glaring at the back of her head. 

The man laughed. “Ol’ boy’d buck ya off ‘fore you had a chance to beg fer mercy.” 

She smiled politely. “You sound very sure of that.”

He shrugged. “You break him, you can have him.”

Peggy nodded and set down her bags. She stuck out her hand. The man looked at her hand like she held a knife. “Deal’s a deal, buddy. Shake a poor lady’s hand.” Her mouth stayed upturned but her eyes flashed a violent anger that seemed to live there now. His face paled and he shook her hand. She winked at him as she pulled away.

The dark horse seemed to grow out of the shadow of the stall as he approached the gate. She smiled at him and held out her hand. He tossed his head defiantly. She held her ground. Peggy glanced to the side to find a lead rope and grabbed it without turning the rest of her body. She lifted the rope to slide around his neck and he knickered defiantly. She shushed him gently and continued.The rope gave her a firm grip and she slowly opened the stall gate. “Now missy, I dunno what chu think yer doin’,” the man started. She smiled at him again. “Let me break him if I’m going to. Thanks.” She led the stallion past him and into the paddock. 

She closed the gate behind her and slipped the rope over his head. He eyed her suspiciously and started to trot circles around her. She stood still and quiet and waited until he ran out his own energy. The stable boy leaned on the fence and watched. The horse slowed his pacing and eyed her. She smiled and opened her hand again, this time with a peppermint candy in her palm. He raised his head at her in caution, but took a few slow steps toward her. 

When he got closer, he moved slower and slower. She stayed steady. His upper lip reached her before the rest of his body did and it curled around the candy. Peggy felt the air dance around her palm as he intently sniffed her. When he decided she was probably safe, he let the rest of his body come closer. She patted his neck and he didn’t move away.

She stepped to the horse’s left, letting her hands drag down his side as she stepped. He danced on his feet a bit but stayed at her arm’s length. She patted his back, lightly putting weight in her palms. She felt him glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She stepped away. He turned his head to look at her, seeming to question why she stopped petting him. She placed her hand once again.

When he seemed comfortable with her palms on his back, she put enough weight in her hands to give herself a little hop. He danced again, so they went round and round, stepping together and away until the horse trusted her. When he stopped in front of her, she placed her palms again squarely on his back. When he did not flinch, she shoved herself up onto his back, slinging her leg around as she went up.

With that, the animal took off like a horse possessed. He bolted away, his back legs kicking behind him with enough force to kill a man. His head flew down with his kicks as he tried to remove Peggy from her seat on his back. He whinied, screamed, and thrashed, but Peggy did not budge.

Her body seemed to know what to do to ride out the horse’s outburst. As he jerked forward, she slid back. Her focus held her to his back and helped her body adjust. She kept her balance, and eventually he stopped bucking. She smiled and patted his neck. “That’s my boy!” She goosed him to walk toward the stable boy, who was hanging from the fence in disbelief. 

The man’s jaw was on the ground as Peggy and the horse approached. She smiled at him quickly and said “So I’ll take the stallion with a full set of tack please.” He blinked at her so she repeated herself. “The saddle, sir. Please.” She smiled again. The man backed away slowly from the fence, continuing to stare at Peggy. He eventually turned and walked into the barn, glanced over his shoulder at her as he went. 

They settled up scores with the stable eating the cost of the stallion and Peggy paying for her tack. The stable boy never seemed to pick his jaw up off the ground, but the new pair walked away together, no matter how surprised he was. 

They rode to the general store to pick up supplies for a camp. She loaded her saddlebags with canned foods, an axe, a fishing pole, and a stew pot. She went to the gunsmith to purchase a rifle and pistol, despite the eyebrows from the shopkeeper. She was preparing for her life in the field. Just her, her baby, and her horse. 

With the supplies loaded up, they set out for the cliffs north of Blackwater. As they rode, Peggy patted the horse’s neck. “What’s your name, hmm?” she asked quietly. He gave no answer. “You’re jet black… maybe Midnight?” No response. “Lucifer?” Nothing. “You’re a big boy… how about Monstro?” The horse knickered softly. Peggy smiled. “Monstro it is.” They rode out into the afternoon sun, determined to find a place to camp. 

They stumbled upon a small cove with a bank large enough for a camp. The cliff would protect them from any severe wind and prying eyes. Until she could build a house, this would probably do. It would have to. She dismounted Monstro and started to unpack. She would have to find meat, build a fire, pitch her tent, and stay alive, all while trying to tend to her growing pregnancy. It was a tall order, but Peggy felt ready. She would have to be. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hosea sends Arthur to check out a nearby camp.

The dream crept around Arthur again. The crosses sat in the yard, the dread sat in his stomach and threatened to erupt in a scream. He heard them calling,  _ Arthur, Arthur, Arthur _ , but he soon realized that he could hear the voices in reality. “Arthur, wake up,” came a firm voice, “Atta boy, c’mon, wake up.” His eyes fluttered open to see Hosea standing over him. “Good morning sunshine.” he smiled down. Arthur glared. “To what to I owe this very early pleasure, Mr. Matthews?” Hosea smiled again. “It’s 10 o’clock in the morning, and there’s some work I’d like you to do.” Arthur sat up and rubbed his eyes. “And what is that?”

Hosea turned to point to a plume of smoke in the sky close to camp. “Someone has set up camp too damn close to ours. I’d like you to go  _ kindly ask them _ to remove themselves.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Ain’t even had my breakfast and I’m already on muscle duty.” Hosea clapped him on the shoulder. “I knew you would. Thank you.” 

He slid on his boots and walked over to Boadecia. She called to him as he walked toward her. He smiled and patted her cheek. She was one of the few things on this earth that could make him smile. She inspired a calmness within him that no human ever could. Being with her allowed him an opportunity to give love and feel it reciprocated. 

He mounted up and headed south toward the smoke. Hosea was right; this camp was incredibly close. He rode there within a minute or two. He found a canvas tent and a small campfire. A huge black horse grazed nearby, but he didn’t see any people. He decided to fish in the lake directly in front of the camp until the camp occupants returned. 

Half an hour passed before he heard footsteps behind him. “You know, you ought to be more careful where you camp. There are some dangerous people around.” He heard a gun cock. “Put the pole down. Put your hands up,” a woman’s voice came behind him. He felt the cool metal of a rifle barrel on the back of his neck. He blinked in surprise, slowly lowered his pole, and turned to face his attacker. There stood the woman from the bar, her dark curls looking wild after a night in a tent. Arthur turned his head slightly and smiled.

“Couldn’t convince him to rent you the room for another night, hmm?” She glared, obviously recognizing him too. “I didn’t need the room for another night. I didn’t need his charity or yours, and I especially do not need you in my camp.” She raised the gun to his chin, his beard being displaced by the pressure. “Easy, killer,” He said quietly. “Why don’t we drop the gun and talk?” She didn’t move the gun, but after Arthur gestured to the fire as a renewal of his offer, she reluctantly lowered the gun and went to the fire. 

She sat on the dirt beside the fire, leaving the gun in her lap. “Why are you here?” Arthur remained standing. “You see that smoke right over there?” He pointed north. She nodded. “That right there is a dangerous gang, a group of thieves and lowlifes coming and going all hours of the day. This ain’t the place for a woman camping on her own.” She glared at him. “And I suppose you’re one of these dangerous men, then?” Arthur didn’t answer but held her gaze. 

“Peggy Hampton,” she said, extending her hand. Arthur blanched for a moment, but shook her hand. “Arthur Callahan.” She narrowed her eyes again and didn’t release his hand. “Cut the bullshit.” His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Why would I lie to you, Ms. Hampton?” She squeezed his calloused hand in her tiny one. “You tell me.” She stepped closer to him, seemingly in an effort to intimidate him. Ordinarily, such efforts would have been laughable to Arthur, but today? Her beady dark eyes stared him down and there was a fire behind them that caught him off-guard. “Morgan,” he said, the word seeming to jump out of his mouth. “Arthur Morgan.” Peggy seemed satisfied with his answer, released his hand, and stepped away. 

Arthur clenched his empty hand, alarmed at his moment of honesty. Peggy smiled in a way that chilled him. “Well, Mr. Morgan, I’m not too concerned about your gang.” She turned away and poked at the fire. “I don’t think you understand--” Arthur started. “You know where I am and I know where you are. How about I  _ won’t _ tell the law where you are, and  _ you _ will leave me alone?” Peggy smiled again, seeming so content with this resolution she had come to. Arthur stared at her incredulously. He had no answer. He could not understand how he lost his power in this situation, but it was clear that he had. 

She looked up at him again. “Did you catch any fish in your attempt to intimidate me out of my new home?” He nodded. “A few smallmouths.” “Fantastic,” she replied. “Get to cooking.” Arthur’s eyebrows shot up again. “Ma’am?” She raised an eyebrow back. “You come to my camp and poach my fish, you’ve gotta make my lunch.” Arthur couldn’t have been more surprised at her demand, except for when he began to cook the fish on her fire. 

The fish crackled quietly as the pair sat around the fire without speaking. Arthur turned the bass on his knife before breaking the silence. “So, what in the hell are you doing out here by yourself?” Peggy glanced at him through the corner of her eye but did not turn away from the fire. “Wouldn’t you like to know, cowboy.” He smirked. “We are friends now, aren’t we, Ms. Hampton?” She pursed her lips. “Friends is not a phrase I would use.” “Gimme something,” he said softly. He couldn’t see her but he could tell she rolled her eyes. “I grew up on a horse farm.” she added eventually. “And where was this farm?” She turned to face him now. “Don’t push your luck.” 

The fish was finished at that point, and he slid the meat off of his knife point and onto the metal plate Peggy held out. She only had one plate, probably because she intended to be the only one eating at camp. They picked at the meat together, resuming their silence. Arthur felt her eyes on him as he ate, but she looked away as he looked up at her. He took the opportunity to drink her in, this wild woman who held him at gunpoint to fry her fish. Her dark hair was disheveled, but arranged in a way that almost looked intentional. It was like her updo was held together with the hair itself, a mountain of dark curls precariously perched on her tiny head. The noon sun caught flecks of red in the darkness of her hair and made it glow like embers in a fire. Her cheeks were round and her chin was strong. Her eyes were lighter than her hair but not by much. Her pupils blended into her iris and only the flecks of gold around her iris announced the difference. She was a short, stocky person that commanded the space around her. Her frame was strong but her angles were soft. She seemed as powerful as the horse that grazed behind them, and Arthur continued to watch her with a sense of wonder. 

The plate of fish had been finished and Arthur felt himself staring at the empty plate. He didn’t want to leave the camp, but he knew he had to. He stood to leave and Peggy stood as well. “Ms. Hampton,” he tipped his hat. “Mr. Morgan,” she responded. He stepped away, having to force himself against the gravity Peggy held over him. She watched him as he walked back to Boadicea. He remained unnerved as he rode away.

He rode back into camp and Hosea was waiting for him. “How’d it turn out?” he asked. Arthur shook his head. “She’s not a threat.” Hosea looked at him questioningly. “She? Who is our new neighbor?” Arthur tried to walk away. “Just some woman.” “ _ Just some woman?” _ Hosea laughed. “She’s just some woman and you couldn’t convince her to move camps?” Arthur turned to face him again. “I’ll keep an eye on it, but she’s not a threat.” Hosea smirked at him. “Whatever you say, Arthur.” 

Arthur walked back to his cot and opened his journal. He started to sketch Peggy, her dark eyes and darker hair. As he recalled her memory, he realized what was so familiar about her; she was a storm of grief and anger. He saw the same torrent in the mirror whenever he could not avoid one. He completed his sketch and pondered the face he created on paper. 

_ Hosea sent me to scare the people out of a nearby camp. I found the woman from the bar, the one who threw a fit over getting a room. I started fishing while waiting for her to come back and she held me at gunpoint. I deserved it, but it still unnerved me. Instead of shooting me like she threatened, she had me fry fish. I cannot place why this woman got the best of me so easily, but she did. I fried her fish and ate with her like it was nothing. I saw an anger in her that I had only seen in myself. I cannot decide whether I hope to meet her again or not. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy has a misadventure while getting firewood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I work in a school and we've had lots of snow, so I'm not at work which means ANOTHER CHAPTER HAPPY WEDESNDAY!

Arthur Morgan walked away from Peggy’s camp after his unsuccessful interjection to force her to move. As he rode out of sight, she felt herself deflate into a puddle. She clasped her small but growing belly, terrified of the risk she had just posed to herself and her baby. As soon as he turned around, she recognized him and kicked herself that she hadn’t the night they met. The wanted poster in the train station in Louisville, those eyes. She held a gun on a man wanted across the west for a slew of violent crimes, had lunch with him even. She could do nothing but let her hands fly into the mess of her hair and wonder what on earth had possessed her. 

Monstro stood over at a patch of grass, continuing to graze without concern. Peggy shook her head at him. She emptied her apron of the berries she had been collecting when Arthur showed up. They weren’t much, but they were free food at least. She brought a few hundred dollars with her, but without a job, she would have no way to replenish the money she would spend. Her stomach growled appreciatively at the fish she had for lunch. Peggy realized that she didn’t understand how much food she would need until she was out in the field, alone and pregnant. 

She glanced at the fire, noticing that it was burning well, and burning well through the supply she had gathered the night before. She grabbed her gun and axe, mounting Monstro, and headed north towards the woods. She understood that someone had to own the land around here, but it wasn’t clear who. As long as she didn’t chop down an entire tree, she assumed it would be fine. 

She forded the Montana with no issue, thankful that Monstro already trusted her so easily to cross moving water with her. She worked her way along the river bank, collecting small bits of wood as she could. She found a small tree that had been felled, probably by some rutting deer, and started to chop it down with her axe. It was harder than she had expected, and she quickly exhausted herself. She loaded what she could, then headed back to camp. 

On the way back, Peggy heard a man yelling. She turned over her shoulder to see a blonde, rat-like man on a black horse breezing past her. “Hurry up, bitch!” He called as he passed. She scowled at him and prepared a response, but in the commotion, Monstro spooked. He bolted in the same direction as the man. Peggy was unprepared for the sprint and jostled in her saddle. She held on for a moment, but soon, she had to intentionally fall to save herself any worse injury. 

She let her body go limp as she tumbled to the ground. She landed with a thud that knocked the air out of her, but she felt otherwise unharmed. She laid there writhing as she fought to remember how to breathe. Moments passed until she drew a deep, ragged breath. She sat up and looked for Monstro. He was nowhere to be found.

“Oh bloody hell,” she cursed under her breath. She called for him again and again, with no luck. She sighed. She would have to follow his large footprints in the dirt and hope she could catch up with him. She walked along the road, keeping a close eye on his tracks and calling for him periodically. Behind her, she heard more hoofsteps and moved to get out of their way. She turned to see a brown draft horse carrying a familiar cowboy approaching. 

“Ms. Hampton?” Arthur asked as he slowed his horse to a stop. “Mr. Morgan,” Peggy nodded and continued to walk. His horse walked with her. 

“Is there a reason you’re on foot?” 

She did not look up at him. “My horse was spooked by some bastard on our way home.”

His eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Are you alright?”

She gave him a terse smile. “Perfectly fine, thank you.” 

They took a few steps in silence. 

“Where is your horse?”

“Presumably at the end of these tracks,” she gestured to the hoofprints she was following.

“I see,” he murmured.

They kept walking. 

“Can I give you a ride to the end of the tracks?” 

“I’m quite capable of walking, thank you.”

“You’re also bleeding,” he observed, pointing to her left shin and the dress that had matted to it. 

Peggy glanced down at her leg and groaned. “Why yes, it would seem I am.”

“Why don’t you just let me give you a ride until we can find that big black monstrosity, hmm?” He steered his horse in front of her to block her path.

Peggy approached the horse and touched its face while reaching for Arthur’s knee with her other hand. She touched both lightly and looked up at him. “Go home, Mr. Morgan,” she said tightly, ducking under the horse’s neck. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, but continued to walk with her.

They walked this way for a few hundred feet before Peggy turned around and said “I thought I told you to go home.” Arthur smiled. “Yes ma’am. This is my way home.” Peggy frowned, gave a  _ humph,  _ and kept walking. 

“You’re leaving a trail, Ms. Hampton,” Arthur called from behind her.

“I’m what?” she asked, her tone demonstrating her frustration with his presence. She looked down and saw the drops of blood she was leaving with each step. She lifted her dress to reveal a cut that was too deep to go untreated, and one that could prove dangerous if she tried to walk all the way home. How she hadn’t felt it was a mystery to her. 

She glared at Arthur, pondering her options. She could be in trouble if she let herself bleed like this. He stopped, sensing her decision. He extended a hand down to help her onto the horse, but she flung herself up onto the horse’s tall haunches with no problem. “Let’s go,” she said, the disdain in her voice evident. “And no funny business.” She saw him nod in front of her. “Yes ma’am.” 

She straddled the horse’s wide rear end with some difficulty. She was forced to put her hands on Arthur’s hips to keep balanced. She grimaced when she touched him and recalled for a moment all of the ludacris events that had led her to riding on the back of an outlaw’s horse in West Elizabeth while pregnant with the dead stable boy’s baby. She let out a small chuckle at the lunacy of it all. Arthur peered over his shoulder. “Is something funny?” Peggy shook her head. “Just thinking about all of the horrible things that have led to this moment. When you put all of them together, it’s so comical it almost can’t be true.” Arthur chuckled. “I know the feeling.” 

Peggy wasn’t sure if it was the recollection of memories or the blood loss, but it soon became difficult to stay on the back of the horse. Her legs felt weak and she was losing her grip. She blinked as her eyes struggled to focus. Her hands fell from Arthur’s sides and she almost toppled again, but he caught on quickly to what was happening. “Oh, nope, nope, nope,” he said, jumping from the horse’s back to catch her before she fell. She slumped into his arms while trying very hard to stay conscious. “Hold tight, Ms. Hampton,” Arthur said, putting Peggy in the saddle first. He held her still while he climbed in behind her. His body dwarfed hers as he wrapped around her. He goosed the horse and she took off. 

Peggy was unsure where they were headed, but the rhythm of the horse and Arthur’s breathing kept her conscious. Both the horse and Arthur panted around her as they worked to take her wherever it was they were taking her. His beard pressed into her neck he rode. She leaned back into him and let her eyes close for a bit.

She came to when she felt the horse skid to a halt. She opened her eyes and saw a sea of gray and blue. After blinking a few times, she recognized the lake. Arthur had taken her home. He quickly dismounted and grabbed her around the waist to pull her down as well. She slid off easily with his direction. His arms held her knees and shoulders as he carried her to her tent, laying her onto her sleeping bag. “Thanks Arthur, bye now,” she said sleepily. He chuckled. “Not yet, Ms. Hampton. This wound needs cauterized and sewn up.” She woke up a bit at the thought of burning her leg. “No. No, no, no. I shall be quite alright, thanks so much for the ride,” she rambled, but Arthur had already opened some gunpowder and was pouring it on her leg. “It’ll just take a moment.” He poured the powder into her wound then held a match to it. Her leg felt like it was melting off. She screamed out in pain and Arthur reached up to smooth her hair. “Shh, Peggy, it’s already over,” he touched her cheek. “It’s already over.” The heat in her wound continued to burn and she felt sticky hot tears stream down her face. Arthur traced his calloused thumb over her cheekbone, wiping them away. “I’m going to sew this up now,” he said quietly. She whimpered and turned her face away from him. 

He removed a small sewing kit from his satchell and left the needle at the edge of the fire for a moment, until it glowed hot. He let it cool, then threaded it. He patted her calf, almost in apology for what he was about to do. He stuck her once slowly and let her catch her breath, then quickly put the next four in. He bound up his work then began to wipe the blood off of her leg. 

The pain had woken her up and she laid there looking up at him. His blue eyes were cloudy with concern as he stared back at her. “Thank you,” she said quietly, reaching for his hand. He squeezed hers back and nodded, saying nothing. They looked at each other for several heavy moments, their hands still touching, before Arthur pulled away and looked outside the tent. “Well hello, you big bastard!” he called. Monstro stood in the light and his shadow filled the tent. Peggy chuckled. “How kind of him to return when you’ve already cleaned up his mess.” Arthur blinked and almost seemed to wince, but Peggy was still groggy and unsure. He stood and left the tent.

Confusion overwhelmed her. Who was this man? Was he a wanted criminal? Was he some sort of hero? The only thing she knew was that Arthur had the chance to hurt her and didn’t. She laid back in exhaustion and felt sleep take her over.

She awoke later to the smell of meat cooking. She looked down at the burn on her leg then panicked, thinking the smell was her own body. She screamed and thrashed away, as if trying to kick off her own leg. “Peggy, what’s wrong?” Arthur asked, charging into her tent. She blinked at him, his presence only making her more confused. “What in the hellfire is burning?” She asked, choking up on the sobs that had risen in her throat. “Well, I wouldn’t call it burning,” he said sheepishly. “I was trying to cook some dinner.” She glanced around the tent, hoping to find something that made this situation make sense. 

She saw all of the blood on her dress and on the ground around her and her hands flew to her belly. “Oh god, my baby!” she wailed. “Did I lose your baby?” Arthur shared her confusion now. “Baby?” he asked quietly. “Peggy, are you pregnant?” She looked up at him, searching his worried face for any kind of answer. Instead of answering, she just sobbed and laid back down. With that, Arthur stepped back outside. 

She cried and cried until her body could produce no more tears. That baby was all she had left of Ben, all she would ever have of him. To lose it so soon would devastate her. She wished Arthur had never found her so that she could have died on the roadside. She rolled onto the dirt and offered her body, hoping some mystical force might still take her life if she could no longer have her baby. No such force found her, but Arthur entered the tent again, this time with a plate of meat and corn and a mug of water. 

“Sit up,” he said sternly. She glared at him like a petulant child, but the quiet insistence of his presence willed her upright. He sat down beside her and put the plate between them. He nodded toward it, silently urging her to eat. She picked at a bit of the meat. “What is this?” she asked weakly. “Venison. I went and got it while you slept.” She nodded her understanding. She had eaten venison back home. They ate silent for a minute or two before Arthur repeated his question. “Peggy, are you pregnant?” She grimaced. “I hope so. All of this blood has me worried that I lost it.” Arthur shook his head. “This was all from your leg, as far as I could tell.” Her eyes widened. “Are you sure?” She hiked up her skirts to see the blood stopped around her knee. She let out a sigh of pure relief. She began to cry again out of joy, but continued to eat.

Arthur let the moment settle before asking “So when are you going to tell me how you ended up pregnant and alone in a tent in West Elizabeth?” She gave him a sad smile and before she could stop herself, her story came flowing out. She told him everything, about Ben, the baby, her parents, her horse, the train ride. He sat silently and listened to her tell it. She began to cry again, and with each tear that fell, she felt her energy deplete. Soon, she was incoherently mumbling and slumping back into her bed roll. Sleep came for her once more as she watched Arthur step out of the tent. It was a dreamless, all-consuming sleep, and she welcomed it. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur helps Peggy the morning after her accident.

Arthur watched Peggy as she babbled along, her body unable to keep pace with the words and emotions she was expressing. She had become incoherent when she described the train station in Louisville. The rest of the story was lost to exhaustion and grief. He watched as her swollen eyelids threatened to close as the gibberish grew quieter and quieter. Sleep eventually overtook her. He rose slowly and exited the tent.

He took a deep breath once he was away from her. Peggy had been through so much in a short time frame. For the first time since their meeting, Arthur began to realize just how  _ young _ she was. Last week, she was riding her thoroughbred around a Kentucky farm, fooling around with a man she loved, and spending time with her family. All of that was gone, because of and on top of the fact that she was 18, unwedded, and pregnant. It was enough to make his head spin, and none of the problems even remotely concerned him.

He poked his head back into the tent. She was asleep like the dead. He decided he would put down his bedroll near the fire. He would rather she not be alone after losing so much blood,  _ especially  _ knowing she was pregnant. The horses knickered softly at him when he fetched his bed and he fed them both a peppermint. “You, you listen here,” he said, stroking Monstro’s face. “You have  _ got _ to do better by this woman, alright? She don’t need you running off on her. She’s had enough of that.” 

He put his bed down near the fire and sat with a  _ thump _ . He stared into the fire, hoping it would provide some answers to a question he couldn’t quite place. He pulled his journal out and prayed for clarity.

_ What have I gotten myself into? Later this same day, I saw Peggy Hampton again. This time, she was walking along a road dripping blood from her leg. Said her horse got spooked and threw her. I tried to help her find him, but she passed out on the way. I got the wound cleaned and shut up, but she told me some real dark stories about how she ended up in West Elizabeth while we ate dinner. Poor kid is pregnant and alone.  _

He reread what he wrote, but it didn’t help much. He still could not place how the young woman in the tent, with her injuries and her pregnancy, had taken up so much space in his mind. He shook his head then laid down. It would be a long night if he spent it trying to ponder Peggy’s problems. But, he supposed, it might be better than thinking about his own. He faded off relatively quickly. It was a dreamless sleep, and one that he welcomed readily. 

~~~

Instead of the tears that typically stained his cheeks in the morning, he awoke to one drop… then another… and another and another. He sat up, blinking through the water. He looked to the sky when he realized it was the source of the water. He grimaced then looked to the fire. It was sputtering under the rain, so pitched his tent over it. It would smell like smoke later, but at least Peggy’s wood would stay dry. The rain was picking up now and began to soak him through his clothes. He groaned and looked out at the lake. He supposed since he was already wet, he could probably just wash up in the lake. The light was still murky and gray; Peggy might not be awake for a few more hours. It was a chance he was willing to take. 

He pulled off his wet coat and unbuttoned his shirt. It squelched as he peeled it off. He kicked off his boots and undid his belt. He grabbed the soap he kept in his satchell. He stood there in his underwear, trying to convince himself to get in the cold water. He cursed under his breath as the water lapped at his bare toes and creeped up his ankles. He shivered and winced, but dove in. 

The water was so cold that it made his ears pop and ache. He reemerged and tossed his hair out of his face.  _ God DAMN _ , he cursed under his breath. Boadicea called to him from the shore, her whinny sound almost like a laugh. Arthur glared at her. “Yeah, yeah yeah..” he grumbled. He scrubbed the bar of soap into his hair and let it lather. He scrubbed his arms and underarms. As he moved, the water felt warmer. It was almost comfortable.

He floated his legs up to scrub them then just let them float there. He laid on his back and let the rain fall on him. He closed his eyes and relaxed. Peggy’s situation was not his problem, and it would resolve itself on his end as soon as he walked away.  _ Then why did it bother him so badly?  _ His tranquil float was interrupted by digging through his emotional constipation and trying to fit Peggy into it. He sat up, his strong legs falling through the water. He shook the water out of his hair again and walked toward the shore. 

His body became more visible as the water shallowed. His strong shoulders came first, then his chest. The rain was still falling, creating a liminal space between the lake and the shore; there was no dry space. His stomach came out of the water, exposing lean, hard muscle from daily use. His shorts clung to him, tight across the top of his thighs. He jogged to Boadicea to grab his towel and fresh set of clothes. 

He coarsely dried himself and his hair. He threw on his new clothes and ducked under the tent over the fire. He pulled out some of the venison from the night before and warmed it up on the fire. He took a bite and let it warm him up after the bath. He sighed into it and blinked slowly. His moment of warmth was interrupted by a “ _ Fuck!”  _ that came from the tent. 

Arthur jumped up and pulled the tent open to see Peggy sitting up on her elbows. “What’s wrong?” he asked urgently. “Nothing, I’m just sore,” Peggy responded, caught off guard by Arthur’s concern. “What are you still doing here, anyway?” Arthur blinked and looked around the tent. “I uh… you uh… you were hurt.” Peggy nodded slowly. “Yes, and you patched me up, thank you. You’re not obligated to stay.” Her tone was dismissive and it stung. He looked at the ground and nodded. They both sat there for a moment in the silence. 

“Would you like some breakfast?” he asked quietly, still not catching her gaze.

She nodded. 

He nodded back and left the tent.

He sat beside the fire, warming up more meat and some biscuits for Peggy. He stared at the embers, wondering what compelled him to take care of this woman.  _ She is not your responsibility, _ he kept thinking.  _ She is not your problem. _ He watched the fire crackle.  _ She’s having a baby. _

The meat and biscuits were warm, so he put them on the plate and carried them into the tent. She was sitting up now. He sat the plate in front of her then sat down himself. She ate quietly and he stared out the tent at the lake. “Is it raining?” she asked casually. He nodded. She cocked her head. “Then how is your hair wet but your clothes aren’t?” He smiled without looking at her. “I am capable of bathing and changing clothes, Ms. Hampton.” She quickly belly-laughed then contained herself. The sound was loud and boisterous, a moment of pure joy. Arthur fixed his eyes on her as she tried to hold in her laughter. A chuckle erupted from him despite his efforts to keep a straight face. “What are you laughing at?” His question seemed to make her laugh harder and she fell over onto her bed roll in a fit of cackles. “Baths!” she gasped out between laughs. “Baths?” he asked, laughing hard himself. “I forgot about baths! I forgot people could take baths!” 

Arthur nearly spit at her response. “You think I’m just some dirty ass cowboy who has never met a bar of soap? Peggy?” he asked as the laughter conquered his lungs. Peggy had evolved to a soundless wheeze. “No, no, no” she tried, “I just… oh lord!” She leaned forward and grabbed Arthur’s arm as she laughed. His breath caught at her touch and his eyes immediately darted to her hand. She started to calm down when he stopped laughing, then looked up at him as she caught her breath. He looked in her eyes and she did not look away. They stared for a moment then exhaled together. The fire that typically lurked behind her dark eyes felt more like sunlight today and the gold of her irises shone out at him. It warmed him in a way unlike the food or the fire. His chest felt like it was glowing and his arm burned under her hand. She grinned at him, probably still thinking about baths, and he realized his jaw was slack.

He snapped his mouth shut and looked away quickly. She patted his arm and nodded as she pulled away. “I think I might be due for a bath if I had forgotten people took them,” she chuckled. Arthur shrugged. “You’ve been through a lot lately.” Peggy nodded and took a bite of her breakfast. “I suppose, I suppose.”

Arthur patted his legs as he stood. “Well, I’m afraid you have been long craving my absence.” Peggy looked up at him for a moment, then glanced back down. “Oh… sure, do what you need to.” She watched her food intently, as if avoiding his eyes. Arthur looked down at the food too. “I could uh… come back tomorrow morning. See how you’re getting on.” Peggy nodded quickly. “That would be nice… if you can fit me into your tight schedule of bank robbing and larceny.” Arthur grimaced. He had heard that sentiment before from somewhere but couldn’t place it. Was it from Mary? Or Eliza? Or any other woman he has tried to court? Instead of processing this, he just nodded to Peggy. “I’ll see you soon, then.” He stepped out of the tent.

Boadicea waited for him near Monstro. He swung into the saddle and immediately took off. He needed to go back to  _ his _ camp,  _ his  _ life, and away from Peggy. He had enough problems without picking up a pregnant teenager. He rode hard and fast to camp, which was only a minute or two at a reasonable pace, but even quicker at a gallop. He slid into camp and Karen was keeping guard. “Hi Arthur!” she called. “Karen,” he nodded back. “Where ya been?” Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Out.” Karen grinned mischievously. “How is she?” “She’s fine…  _ wait! _ ” He glowered at her. “Leave it, Karen.” She laughed at him as he rode into camp.

He marched straight to his cot and pulled out his journal.

_ What am I doing? Why do I feel like this? I can’t be tied up with this girl. Look at what happened last time? I need to stay away from her but I already promised her breakfast tomorrow. What have I done? _

Arthur’s journaling was interrupted by Hosea approaching his tent. He looked up at the older man. “Hosea,” he muttered. “How’s it goin’, Arthur?” He nodded back. “Fine, fine.” Hosea paused for a moment. “What’s going on over there?” Arthur looked up and frowned.

“Kid’s pregnant and alone. Her family kicked her out all the way from fucking Kentucky when they found out. Baby’s father is dead. She fell off her horse and bloodied her leg yesterday. I worry she’s gonna get herself killed.” 

Hosea frowned too. “Damn…” 

“Yeah… I’m bringing her food again tomorrow.” 

“You could always bring her here,” Hosea suggested, shuffling his feet. 

“I dunno… we’ll see.” 

Hosea nodded. “I’d rather feed her with the rest of camp than have you making housecalls every morning.” He walked away, leaving Arthur to think about what he said. 

Peggy and the baby spun in his head. He put his journal away and went out to find some work, something to distract him from her. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy has some unexpected visitors.

Arthur stepped out of the tent, promising to return tomorrow with more food. She wondered just how true that was and why he was so motivated to take care of her. She could see in the way he looked at her that spending time with her caused him some kind of pain or anguish, but why she wasn’t sure. He seemed to like being around her until she was enjoying being around him, and then he would up and leave. She shook her head to herself.  _ I don’t need him or his strange charity anyway.  _

She slowly stood up. Her leg was structurally fine, but damn, was it sore. She gingerly put weight on it and felt the burn stretch and pull. She winced. She hobbled outside the tent and saw that Arthur had propped up a second tent over her fire in the rain. It had stopped raining now, so she took it down and to the lake edge. She kneeled and got comfortable and began to scrub at it. She knew the smoke would be oppressive in it the next time he camped if it wasn’t washed beforehand. While she was scrubbing, she looked down at her stress.The blood from the night before had turned black in the fabric of her skirt. She frowned. This would need laundered before the stain was immovable. She pulled her dress over her head, only to see even worse stains on her slips. She looked around. The sun was coming out after the morning rain, and late March in West Elizabeth was still warmer than Kentucky. She was alone. She had already laughed that she needed a bath. She decided to strip off entirely and take the soap to everything.

She pulled out the bar that she had bought at the general store and walked to the water’s edge. It was cold, and she wondered why Arthur picked this morning to take a bath. She pulled her slip over her head, leaving nothing but her bloomers between her and the water. She took a step into the brisk water, then another.  _ It’s not so bad, _ she thought to herself. She waded in, wondering if water this cold was a risk to her pregnancy. She didn’t very well have a choice, she supposed. Her breasts were swollen and hot from the pregnancy and the cold water felt like ice on them. It was almost a pleasant relief, but when they responded to the chill, they seemed to hurt worse. 

She went deeper still, floating her dress and slip behind her. She scrubbed everything, including herself, until it felt tolerably clean. She was still unsure how to clean her feet when they were covered in mud underwater, but maybe that was something she would learn. She let her long curls float out behind her as she lowered her head into the water. She tried to run a hand through her hair but was quickly snarled in a knotted curl. She cursed and vowed to comb her hair once she was on shore.

Just as she was ready to exit the water, she heard voices coming from above the cliff. “I’m telling you, John, the sun coming out after that storm this morning means the bluegill will be biting like they’ve never eaten,” came one voice. “I dunno, I’m not a great fisherman,” came another. “Listen to me,  _ hermanito,  _ I can teach you how to fish,” said the first voice again. The hoofsteps drew closer to the edge of the cliff. “Speaking of fish, do you see someone in the water down there?” Two horses appeared, each carrying a man Peggy had never met. “That’s a person, alright… and that’s a lot of hair for a man,” said the first voice. “How ya doin’ out there, ma’am?” said the second. Peggy sunk further into the water. “I’d be better if you left, quite frankly.” 

“Are you intentionally swimming in March?” asked the first. The men got close enough to see her camp.

“Is this your set-up?” asked the man she assumed was John. 

“Is there anything I can do for your boys or is this purely a social call? I’d be glad to fix some tea if you come back later, but now isn’t a good time.”

The first man swung off his horse and walked down to the camp. He peered into her pot and tent. “There’s a lot of blood in here; are you injured?” 

“You need to leave,” she said firmly.

John began to look sheepish. “We don’t need anything from her, Javier. Leave her be.”

Javier scratched his chin. “I’m only wondering what a woman is doing camping so close to our camp… and what we should do about it.” 

The connection made itself known to Peggy. “Y’all are some of them? That gang nearby?”

Both men whirled around to watch her head bop in the water. “What do you know of that?” 

Peggy felt a fire grow within her. “I know that Arthur Morgan has been here multiple times and he might not take too kindly to you causing me harm.”

The men looked between them, clearly taken aback to hear Arthur’s name. 

“And I know your names are John and Javier, so unless you’d like Arthur to hear about this later, you will get back on your horses and never interrupt my bath again. Am I understood?” she said, almost believing her own threat. 

“Yes ma’am,” they both mumbled as they walked. 

As soon as they were gone, she ran out of the water. Her toes had gone numb as she demanded the men leave. She screeched in discomfort when the air hit her, so she wrapped up as soon as she could. She found a clean dress, slip,and bloomers, and laid the newly washed clothes out to dry near the fire. 

She wondered if their fishing tip about the bluegill was true. She got her pole out and baited the hook. Sure enough, no sooner had she positioned her injury comfortably than a fish bit. She reeled it in, then another, and another, and another. Soon, she had caught enough for a huge dinner and snack before bed. She beamed at Monstro. “Look! I’m not gonna die!” She laughed out loud and began cooking the fish. 

After dinner, she was ready for bed again. Maybe it was the move, maybe it was the pregnancy, but she had no energy. She laid down inside her tent and stared at the roof. She hadn’t been sure of her ability to survive out here, but today, she proved to herself that even if things went poorly, she could adjust. She could provide for herself. Arthur could never show up again and she would still be okay. She smiled at her self-reliance and drifted off to sleep.

~~

_ “There’s been an emergency. Ben’s been hurt.” _

_ She tore off running to the barn, but the yard seemed to stretch in front of her. She wasn’t making any ground, but she kept running and running. She screamed for him but nothing came out. Her feet pounded into the grass. The harder she ran, the further away the barn seemed. _

_ A flick of a switch, and there he was, his chest caved in and bloody. She screamed again, and nothing. She screamed for help, she screamed in her grief, she screamed in her anger of the future that had been taken from her.  _

_ Suddenly, there were hands, hands pulling her away from Ben. She thrashed and wailed, hoping to die there with him. She clawed at them, trying to force them away from her. They were too strong. A voice called for her to be quiet, to calm down. Her fists went flying, flailing, looking for anything to punch. They connected with something crunchy and her hand felt hot.  _

She woke up to see a man standing near her, clutching his face. She recoiled away from him, screaming, “Who are you? Where’s Ben? I have to save Ben!” Her voice was hoarse and afraid. The man moved his hands away from his face and his blue eyes looked down at her with an unspeakable sadness. “Wake up, Peg.” Peg. No one had called her Peg since… the memory of what had happened, where she was, and who the man in front of her was came back to her all at once. She collapsed back onto the bedroll and let her face hang in her hands. She cried with the realization that Ben was already gone and all the dreaming in the world would not save him. She cried when she remembered she was pregnant, and doing a very poor job of protecting herself and the baby. She cried when she recognized that Arthur was here because he pitied her. 

Arthur stood noticeably out of arm’s reach with a handkerchief to his nose. “Oh god,” she cried when she realized what the crunchy hot victim of her punch was. “Did I break your nose?” He shrugged. “Are you sure you’re from Lexington? Because you swing like a Louisville Slugger.” She scoffed while wiping the tears from her face, “Well, if you were ever at your own camp instead of barging into my tent, maybe you could avoid my right hook.” He chuckled and shook his head. “You about woke up the entire coastline with all that screaming. I worr-...” He stuttered, “It’s not safe for you to be out here alone with those kinds of nightmares.” She glared at him. “And what do you know about bad dreams?” His eyes snapped over to her with an intensity she hadn’t seen since that night in the bar. “I know plenty. You don’t need to be out here by yourself, drawing all kinds of attention to you while you sleep. You could come st-” 

Peggy was standing now and interrupted him. “And do you have a solution, or are you just here to tell me that my lifestyle isn’t suited for a lady? Because if so, you, the people on the trains, the bartender, the man at the barn, and everyone else can all get in line!” Her voice grew in volume as she spoke. “I don’t have a solution to the problem that everyone can so kindly and so readily point out to me! With any luck, the next outlaws who find me won’t be impressed when I toss out the name Arthur Morgan and I will finally just die. I’ll just die.” She tossed her hands in exasperation. Arthur watched her thoughtfully as his expression grew cold.

“The  _ next  _ outlaws?” he asked slowly.

She brushed him off. “Some guys named John and Javier rode by when I was bathing in the lake and didn’t want to leave me alone. I told them you would be coming back so they left.”

Arthur’s jaw set. “You should have told me.”

She scoffed again. “Told you what?”

“That someone was bothering you. I would have taken care of it.”

Peggy grew even more frustrated. “ _ Why? _ You’re not in charge of me. I’m not your responsibility. You don’t owe me a damn thing, not bandages, not breakfast, nothing,” she said, gesturing to the plate he had set down. 

Hurt flashed in his eyes. “I… I can’t explain it.”

“You  _ can’t _ ? Or you  _ won’t?”  _ She stepped toward him, puffing her chest into his. 

His expression was genuinely pained at this point. “I can’t,” he muttered. “I can’t.”

She stepped away from him and out of the tent. He followed. “What’s the move here, anyway? You know I’m broke. I have nothing to rob. Are you looking for a concubine? Do gangs want pregnant whores? I really have no idea what would motivate you to protect some random woman who camped too close to your little outlaw operation besides me having some use for you. And what about my baby? Are they really going to be safer with you as my shadow than without? I’ve seen your poster, Arthur. You are the very man I would strive to keep my child away from and the very man I would work everyday to make sure they did not become.” 

By the time she finished her monologue, she was screaming. She knew people could hear her, and part of her hoped that Arthur’s camp would hear it too. When she finally looked back at his face, it was bloody from busting his nose with streaks of salt running from his eyes. The red of his face and eyes made his irises look as icy as his expression. At that moment, she realized she had cut him and cut him deeply. She swallowed. She knew she should apologize. She didn’t mean it. Arthur was her unexpected friend and lifeline in the new life she was creating as she went. Fresh tears welled in her eyes and her hand reached for him. He flinched. “Breakfast is in the tent. I’ll leave you be.” he said, slightly tipping his hat.

“Arthur, wait,” she said, reason returning to her voice. He did not wait.

_ “You could come stay _ ” Peggy heard repeated in her mind. Arthur was offering her to live with him, with his gang. Her concerns with that arrangement still stood, she wasn’t sure about raising a baby around a gang, but he was trying to help. He tried to help and she interrupted him to scream and insult him. She plopped down in her tent again, the plate of food that he brought sitting cold and lonely in the corner. She contemplated solutions to this situation. She could hope he eventually came back. They could act like nothing happened and go on with their strange lives. She could write him a letter and drop it off at camp, explaining that she was sorry. Or, she could walk her ass into camp and apologize in person. 

She decided she would write the letter and apologize in person. That way, if he refused to see or if his cronies wouldn’t let him through, she could at least deliver the letter. She sat down with some of the few scraps of paper she had and began to write. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur feels sorry for himself.

Peggy’s words stung with their truths. Arthur wasn’t sure how she was able to access his emotional underbelly so easily, but she did and had cut to the quick. He nearly jogged to his horse to leave her as quickly as he could. “Arthur, wait!” she called for him. He shook his head softly and kept walking.

He rode back to camp, eager to return but not eager to face the crowd that had assuredly heard her outburst. Lenny was standing post as he walked in. “H-h-hhi Arthur,” he stuttered. Arthur frowned and nodded. Every other eye was on him as he walked through camp, most too afraid to meet his gaze. Most, except one. “How’s it goin’, cowpoke?” came Micah’s raspy voice as he approached him head on. “Not now, Micah,” Arthur grumbled as he walked past. “What’s wrong?” he asked, mockingly. “Did the girl down the way hurt your feelings? I heard her call you some real mean names. Hell, I think the entirety of West Elizabeth heard her say she didn’t want you around her baby. Not even good enough for someone else’s bastard … tsk, tsk, Morgan. She must have put out  _ real nice _ for you to take that kind of lip from her.” Arthur spun on his heels to face him. “If you know what’s good for you, you will shut that rat trap you call a mouth,” he growled into Micah’s face. Micah grinned beneath his moustache. “Or what, Morgan?” 

Arthur answered him with a swift punch to the jaw. He stumbled back and slid on his shoulders in the mud. Despite Arthur’s best efforts, Micah laughed. “You wanna know the best part, cowpoke? I’m the one that spooked her horse!” He continued to cackle while Arthur stepped closer. “I put that much together,” Arthur hissed. “When she said a blonde rat called her a bitch, I knew you were the man.” He drew his pistol and pointed it at him. “Maybe I should do every other rider on the road a favor and do some extermination work.” He cocked the gun and fiddled with the trigger. Micah sneered up at him.

“ _ Boys!”  _ called Dutch’s booming voice. “What seems to be the problem here?” Micah laughed from his position on the ground. “Morgan got his feelings hurt by some teenaged vagrant and couldn’t handle being asked about it.” Dutch looked to Arthur. “Is this true?” Arthur shook his head in defiance and began to walk away. “I’m done here.” Dutch put a hand out. “Now, son, I understand you’re angry, but drawing a gun on your brother is not the way to cope.” Arthur tossed Dutch a caustic glare. “I’ll keep my gun away from him when I believe he’s my brother.” 

His boots plodded into the mud as he marched back to his tent. Adrenaline and hurt swam through his head. He sat down on his cot and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He took a long, urgent swug, caught his breath, and went back for another. He never did have his breakfast because he intended to eat with Peggy, so the liquor hit his empty stomach and was off to the races. He kept drinking. Within half an hour, his sight was blurry and his head felt heavy. He could still hear Peggy’s barbs so he kept drinking. 

“Oh, Arthur,” came the soft, sweet voice of Tilly Jackson, “What are you doing? It’s not even noon and you’re dog drunk.” Arthur looked up at her but couldn’t quite place her. “Miss Jackson,” he mumbled. She sat beside him and patted his knee. “It’ll be okay.” He turned his head to look at her then shook it back to hang at the ground. “I doubt it.”

Tilly repositioned to better face him. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer.

“Arthur, you tell me what happened or I’ll tell you what I heard.”

He furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t look at her. “She was my chance,”

“Who was?”

“Peggy. She was my chance, my redemption. I was drunk in a bar, crying over myself, and Eliza, and Isaac, when she walked in. I saw Eliza in her, and when I learned she was pregnant, the situation was too familiar. I thought if I could help her, I might finally be able to do right by them. I thought I was being given a chance.”

Tilly frowned and pursed her lips. “And then she said all of those awful things,” she filled in quietly. 

Arthur nodded and took another drink. 

“Oh, Arthur…” She leaned into him, which almost knocked them both over, but Tilly held them up. “Does she know any of this?” 

“Any of what?”

Tilly cocked her head. “What you just told me, about Eliza and Isaac?”

Arthur wrinkled his nose and scoffed. “God, no.” 

Tilly rolled her eyes. “So, you just decided to be helpful to a random woman camping alone, after introducing yourself as a wanted man?” 

He didn’t answer.

“Arthur, god dammit, no wonder she got scared! She can’t read your mind, and she doesn’t know you.”

He thought about this for a moment and groaned. He didn’t know what was worse, the glaring miscommunication or the fact that the simple remedy was telling Peggy how he felt, but this realization certainly changed the situation. 

“Yes, yes, I’m a fool. At least I didn’t take years to mess up this time.” 

Tilly shook her head and stood. “You can sit here with your whiskey and self-flagellation, but I’m not gonna help you beat yourself. I think it’s clear what you have to do.” 

He watched her walk away then stared at the ground in front of him. He put the entirety of his grief and guilt over Eliza and Isaac onto some poor girl he had just met. She didn’t ask for it, and he took it personally when she said as much. She asked him why. He should have told her. He looked toward her camp, still seeing the plume of smoke. He wondered if she would listen if he apologized and told her the truth. He wondered if it mattered. He considered his options. He could wait then show up at her camp with some food like nothing happened. When they were friendly again, he could explain himself.  _ That solves nothing _ , he thought. He could write her a letter, but how would he get it to her? If he snuck it into her camp, he might scare her again. He might have to see her to give her the letter himself and assure her he meant no harm. Or, he could show up in her camp and pour his broken heart out. 

He decided to write the letter and hope he saw her. He picked up a pen and his journal but the page swam in front of his eyes. He blinked in an attempt to focus with no luck. He set everything aside and laid down on his cot. He would have to sleep off the whiskey before he wrote anything. He was asleep the moment his head hit the cot.

~~~

The commotion of camp at dinnertime woke him up from his drunken nap. His head complained the moment he opened his eyes and he knew he needed food. He sat up, the light and sound of the evening an assault on his heightened senses. He stumbled to the pot of stew where Charles was pouring himself a bowl. He looked up, saw the state Arthur was in, and poured a second one. “Here. You need it,” he said, handing him the bowl. Arthur nodded and ate it as quickly as he could. No sooner did he eat than the stew came back up. He jogged outside camp and hurled.  _ I guess it’s just crackers tonight, then. _ He returned to his cot with a tin of crackers and a yarrow elixir. 

He kept nursing the elixir but pulled out his journal and began to write. 

_ Ms. Hampton, _

_ I apologize if this letter causes you further distress. My intention in writing is not to tell you that I am somehow not at fault for the actions that have defined the course of my life. You are right to be wary of me. However, I hope you will give me the opportunity to explain myself.  _

He heard footsteps approach and saw Hosea watching him. He gave him a half-hearted smush of his lips that could be hardly classified as a smile. Hosea returned the look. “So,” Hosea started, “She didn’t blindly trust the outlaw, hmm?” Arthur closed his journal. “If you’re here to lecture me, Tilly has beaten you to it.” 

Hosea shook his head. “You’re a sensitive man, Arthur.”

He glared at him. “And what are you suggesting?”

Hosea shrugged. “I think you should consider what you want out of your life.”

Arthur hardened again. “This is my life.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And look how happy you are, hungover at 6pm, writing an apology letter to a woman you just met.” 

He glared.

“All I’m saying,” Hosea said, raising his hands defensively, “is that you saw a chance at fatherhood and you jumped on it. That has to mean something.” 

Arthur set his jaw, bristling at the truth in Hosea’s statement. “It means I’m a fool.”

Hosea shrugged.”You may be. Or you might be a man who never took the chance to do right by someone.”

Arthur watched him as he began to walk away. 

“If she means something to you, then let her,” Hosea said over his shoulder. 

Arthur stared back down at his page. What did she mean to him? Was she a projection of his own turmoil? Or was there something there that drew him to her, the person she really was? He thought of Eliza. She was hardened by life, pragmatic. She accepted his help with Isaac but understood that Arthur wouldn’t change for her or their family. There was a warmth between them, a mutual respect, but he wouldn’t call it love. When he grieved her, he grieved his own mistakes, not necessarily the presence she held in his life. Their love was one of shared responsibility, however unequally it may have been distributed. 

He thought of Mary. She led the dance every moment music played. He would never be good enough for her or her family, no matter how hard he tried to fit his life around them. He thought of evenings in the barn when she could manage to sneak out. They would laugh and drink whiskey until any space between them was too much to bear. He would love the hell out of her, trying to use his body to communicate what his words always struggled to. She let him love her, but that was a far cry from loving him too. In the end, it wasn’t enough. He thought of her sometimes and wondered if she thought about him. 

His mind returned to Peggy. He didn’t know how she fit into this mess. He didn’t think he loved her. It had only been a few days. But the way she challenged him, the way she wore her expressions and emotions proudly, the sound of her laugh… being around her made him feel different, like maybe someday, he could be a better person. Her strength and resilience in the face of what she had been through was something Arthur wished he shared. She treated herself like she knew she deserved better. She did deserve better. If he had any hope of staying around her, he would have to be better. With that, he picked back up the letter and began to write. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Peggy exchange letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This ended up being a long one because I couldn't find a natural stopping place.

_Dear Mr. Morgan,_  
 _I am afraid I have deeply offended you. I’m sorry you got upset when I called you an outlaw. Are you not an outlaw?_  
 _“Too mean,” Peggy groaned, crumpling the sheet of paper._  
 _Dear Mr. Morgan,_  
 _I’m sorry I snapped at you. I did not mean it._  
 _Sincerely,_  
 _Peggy Hampton_  
“Too short,” she groaned again. She pulled out another sheet of paper to realize it was the last one she had. “Better make it count.”  
She furiously wrote on the next page, making sure she said exactly what she wanted to say and nothing that she didn’t. She read it over to herself a few times before being satisfied with it. When she was, she folded it and put it in her apron pocket. She wanted to ride to his camp, but she worried about getting on and off Monstro with her hurt leg. If the camps were as close as Arthur had previously insisted they were, it shouldn’t be a bad walk. She followed the lake shore toward the plume of smoke in the air.

  
The sun had well-risen into the sky but she was still unsure what time it was. She hoped Arthur was awake. The pinks and oranges of the sunrise had faded to the rich blue of midday. The world was awake but somehow still groggy. She had been awake to see it all, her body still on Kentucky time. She wondered when she might adjust to being west. She watched a boat on the lake as she walked, a cloud of black smog lingering over it. She wrinkled her nose when she imagined what it must feel like to try to breathe in the soot. The imagined weight in her chest became a real one when she collided with something sturdy.

  
Peggy squealed and looked up to see Arthur. From the look on his face, it was evident that he was not expecting to see her either. They jumped apart then stared at each other cautiously. A heavy moment passed. Peggy swallowed.  
She opened her mouth to speak but heard “I’m sorry,” come from both of them.  
She tilted her head in confusion and so did he.  
“You’re sorry?” they said together again.  
Peggy chuckled nervously. “I’m sorry I said those things.” She fiddled with the letter in her hand. “I uh… I wrote you something.” She extended it to him.  
He accepted it reluctantly, looking between her face and hands like he was missing something. “Well,” he started. “I’m sorry for not being honest with you.” He reached into his pocket and chuckled. “I also wrote something for you.”  
She nodded.  
“I’ll… see you later, I guess.”  
He nodded and walked away.

  
It was all she could do not to take off running back to camp to open his letter. She heard his steps walking away behind her, fading as they walked further apart. When she was satisfied that he was far enough not to hear her jog, she tore along the beach to her camp. Her leg griped as she went, but her nerves were taking over. She needed to know what he had taken the time to write to her.

 _Dear Ms. Hampton,_ he started. His handwriting was a unique set of angles and loops that was beautiful, but almost hard to read at first. She refocused her eyes and the flow of his pen became evident.

_I hope you’ll accept this letter as an apology and an opportunity for me to explain myself._   
_You are right to be wary of me. I am a bad man who has done many bad things. However, I like to believe I am a man of certain morals. Hurting a pregnant woman who is alone in the world is something I could never do. Any action I take in regards to you and your baby is kindly meant._

_This gang has been my family since I was a small boy. My mother died when I was a boy and my father was a petty criminal. When he died, I was alone. Dutch and Hosea took me in when I had no one. They are the only family I have really known._

_Several years ago, I met a waitress in a bar. Her name was Eliza. We got into trouble one night after drinking too much. That trouble became a little boy she named Isaac. I did not change, but I did what I could for them by way of sending money and stopping by every now and again. Eliza let me, but she knew what I was. I had a choice between the family I had run with for years or the family too much whiskey had created. I did my best to keep a foot in both worlds, but in the end, it was not enough. I came to see them once to find out they had been murdered and robbed. Ten dollars was all they had. I lose sleep every night knowing that my child and his mother might still be alive if I was there._

_The night we met, I was drinking away my grief and guilt on the eighth anniversary of their deaths. You walked into that bar like a hellstorm. I saw Eliza in the way you tussled with the bartender, then again with me, and when I learned you were pregnant, it all came back to me. I knew that this time, I would not make the same mistakes. I would do what I had to in order to keep you and your baby safe. How blind I was to assume you wanted or needed my help._

_You have every right to refuse my help and company and I will not blame you if you do. If you do not respond to this letter, I will understand that you have decided to keep your distance. However, if my friendship is a risk you are willing to take, and I understand that it is a risk, you’re welcome to join us for dinner at our camp._

_I hope to see you soon,_   
_Arthur Morgan_

Peggy read and reread the letter. She glanced down at her belly, which had grown a bit since she left home, and thought about Eliza and Isaac. She would have to reckon with the fact that she was not in Lexington anymore. As the train traveled west, it was like they had lost years instead of hours. This was still a dangerous place. She grimaced, remembering thinking I don’t need anyone to take care of me, but realizing that her entire life, someone had taken care of her. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life squatting in a tent on the lake shore. She would be a mother soon. She could not raise her baby in a tent. She would need help. Arthur may be a bad man, but he was offering protection from the worst of them. He was the only friend she had; now was not the time to lose him.

~~~~

He heard her walk away and resisted the urge to turn around and watch her reaction. His feet seemed to carry themselves while his mind spun. He heard Peggy run as she walked further away. He frowned. Surely she wasn’t running from him? His uncertainty ate at him. He ducked under a tree limb and back into camp.  
“Back so soon?” asked Tilly, who had watched him leave.  
“She,” he started, holding her letter up for Tilly to see, “Wrote me something as well. We bumped into each other, literally, in between camps and exchanged letters.”  
Tilly raised her eyebrows. “Well, let me know if she hates you or not.” She strutted away from him.

Arthur sat on his cot and read his own name written across the folded letter. Her handwriting was elegant and indicative of her family’s money. She had definitely had a governess or some other education. Seeing his name like that almost made him feel important. Almost.

_Dear Arthur,_

_I’m afraid I have deeply offended you and jeopardized our friendship. My words came from a place of hurt that was no fault of yours and you unfairly bore the brunt of my grief. Please allow me this opportunity to sincerely apologize._   
_While I understand your relationship to the law is a tumultuous one, I am able to draw a curtain between the man on the wanted poster and the man who sewed my leg. You have been nothing but sweetness itself to me and I hope you’ll give the chance to be a better friend to you._   
_My world quickly became a cold, dark place when I left Kentucky, but you, Arthur Morgan, are a ray of light. You’re welcome to join me for a meal at your earliest convenience; I promise I’ll cook this time._

_I hope to see you soon,_

_Peggy Hampton_

Arthur stared at the page as he struggled to process what she had written. He was a ray of light? Nothing but sweetness itself? He blinked in disbelief. Not a soul alive had described him that way, and certainly not to his face. He felt the blood rush to his face and the corners of his mouth tried to tug up besides his best efforts to the contrary. Peggy still wanted him around. His involuntary smile crept across his face. He let it stay.  
He was still lost in the haze of her letter when he thought he heard her voice in the distance. He blinked and tried to focus on it.  
“Ah, so we meet on equal footing now, John,” she said. “Peggy Hampton.”  
“Wh- uh uh what are you doing here?” John stuttered.  
“I was invited by Arthur. Is there a problem?”

He jumped up to intervene and nearly jogged over to them. Peggy gave a tight smile when she saw him. “See, here he is now.” John looked back at Arthur incredulously. Arthur shrugged and ushered Peggy past.  
“I...I didn’t expect you so soon,” he muttered. “I’m not sure I expected you at all.”  
She nodded matter-of-factly. “We should talk. You’re a horseman, right? Let’s ride.” She walked over to Monstro, who she had left grazing near John, then turned around to face Arthur. “Are you coming?”  
He was so taken aback by the speed of the interaction that he was frozen where he stood. “Yes, yes. Just a moment.”

He got Boadicea and rode over to Peggy and Monstro. She nodded matter of factly again. He couldn’t read her face. “Where should we ride?” she asked. “You’ve been here far longer.” He thought about it a moment. “Have you been west of Blackwater yet?” She shook her head. “Let’s go to Broken Tree and back.” She lifted her hand to him. “Lead the way then.”

Arthur cantered west. They rode in silence for several minutes until Peggy broke it. “So it doesn’t get easier after 8 years?”  
He frowned at the pang in his chest. “It’s not that it stays hard. But things will always be different.”  
She nodded pensively.  
Silence hung between them.  
“You know I’m not helpless, right? I won’t die if you look away for an afternoon and it wouldn’t be your fault if I did.”  
Arthur smacked his lips and didn’t answer immediately. “I just want to help,” he muttered.  
He turned to see her give him a sad smile.  
“I don’t want what happened to Eliza to happen to me. If I’m to raise this baby on my own, I should be able to live on my own.”  
Arthur’s thoughts raced as he tried not to overstep again. “What are you suggesting?”  
“Teach me to hunt, teach me to fight, how to shoot a gun,” she said firmly.  
His eyes widened with disapproval. “Peggy, you’re pregnant.”  
Shr shrugged. “Pregnant on the prairie with nary a daddy in sight. You won’t always be there. I need to take care of myself, and that includes defending myself.”  
He shook his head. “Is that what you want?”  
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” she said, the emotion rising in her voice. Her eyes looked far away and her hand went to her belly. “Our time is not our own, Arthur.”  
He nodded. “We can start tomorrow.”

  
Broken Tree rose out of the plains like a lightning rod, its dark limbs hanging like a shroud around its split trunk. They rode up into the shade and Arthur readily embraced the chance to get out of the sun. He moved his hat to wipe the sweat off of his brow. “Y’all are creative with your names out here,” Peggy mused. “I didn’t expect the tree to be literally broken.” Arthur chuckled. “I think that’s your fault, then.” They dismounted and sat at the base of the tree. A comfortable silence settled around them. He looked up to see her watching the empty eastern horizon, as if she was trying to see home.

  
He cleared his throat. “You’re gonna be okay, both of you,” he muttered, staring at the dirt in front of him. He couldn’t see her but he heard a sob collect in her throat. She said nothing and kept her back to him. He reached his hand out slowly and put it on her shoulder. His touch seemed to set off an eruption of grief and the tears finally spilled over. He traced his thumb along her shoulder blade and she cried harder. Arthur sat there helplessly, unsure how to react. “It’ll be okay. You’re okay,” he quietly shhed her. She turned to face him, her face swollen and wet, and buried her head onto his chest. He froze, but eventually wrapped his arm around her back.

  
They sat there for several heavy moments as Peggy cried and Arthur held her. She began to catch her breath but didn’t move away from him immediately. She sat up slowly and sniffed. “No wonder you think I’m helpless. I cry every time you see me,” she chuckled. He gave a small smile. “I never said you were helpless.”  
She rolled her eyes. “No, just a defenseless child alone in the world, right?”  
He shook his head. “Please do not confuse my mistakes for your own shortcomings.”  
Peggy sighed at his allusion to Eliza. “I just want better for myself than this.”  
“And better you shall get,” he said, patting her back.  
She smiled at him over her shoulder.  
“So, you really think I’m a light? Nothing but sweetness itself?”  
She laughed from her core, that joyful noise he loved so much. “That’s it, time to go,” she cackled. She stood and was walking toward Monstro as Arthur laughed with her.  
“C’mon now, there’s no need to be embarrassed.” he called to her as he walked to Boadicea.  
She mounted and faced him. “How ‘bout we race back to camp and see who should be embarrassed?”  
He raised his eyebrows. “Now, you’ve already cried once today. I’d hate to make you cry again.”  
He was swinging into the saddle when she called, “Mount up, old man, and let’s race.”  
He feigned indignation at his age. “You’re on!”

  
They tore across the prairie together in a thunder of hooves. Arthur was catching ground when Peggy kicked Monstro again, sending them flying ahead. They were neck and neck as Blackwater came back into view and they rounded the corner for camp. He tried one last push to force a lead, but Boadicea was old and tired compared to Monstro’s youth. Peggy skidded into the lot at camp and turned to face Arthur as he trotted in behind her. “Who’s embarrassed now?” She grinned. Arthur shrugged. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re a hell of a rider.” Her brow furrowed and she paused for a moment. “Well… that’s not nearly as fun as embarrassing you, but I will accept the compliment.” They laughed as they turned from each other to walk into camp, only to find that everyone had stopped what they were doing to look at them.

  
Peggy froze and Arthur blushed. “Arthur,” Hosea called. “Would you care to introduce us to your friend?” Arthur blanched but gestured to her. “Uh sure. Hosea, this is--” Peggy interrupted and stepped in front of him. “Peggy Hampton. How do you do?” Hosea chuckled. “I do quite well, Ms. Hampton. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard much.” Peggy glanced at Arthur over her shoulder. “All horrible, tragic things, I’m sure,” she patted his hand as she released it. Hosea laughed again.

  
Arthur saw the woman watching them from over their laundry. He raised his hands from his hips, as if to say _well, are you coming_? Karen and Tilly came hurrying over, but Mary Beth was a bit more hesitant. “Karen Jones,” she announced as she reached for Peggy’s hand. Peggy greeted her with eagerness and shook her hand firmly. Tilly introduced herself and Peggy continued to smile. Arthur watched Mrs. Grimshaw and Charles eye them from afar, but they didn’t approach. Mary Beth came shuffling from behind them and did not seek out Peggy’s attention. Peggy seemed to be bred for introductions and mingling and caught Mary Beth eye. “Hi, I’m Peggy.” Mary Beth smiled meekly and introduced herself. Peggy cocked her head at Mary Beth’s coolness but didn’t press it further.  
Jack toddled out toward the group, followed closely by his mother, attempting to scoop him up. Peggy lit up when she saw them. “Hello, young man! What’s your name?” Her voice softened. “I’m Jack,” he said, giving a small wave. Peggy returned it. Abigail shifted Jack to her left and held out her right hand. “Abigail Marston,” she introduced. “I’m John’s wife.” Peggy nodded in recognition and tickled Jack’s back. “Charmed, truly.”

  
Arthur saw Dutch wandering over from his tent. He didn’t look pleased. “May I ask,” he boomed over the crowd, “what the commotion here is?” The people spread to reveal Peggy. Dutch looked her over sternly. She beamed up at him and extended her hand. “Peggy Hampton. You must be Dutch van der Linde, the great leader and philosopher.” No matter what reservations he had held a moment ago, Dutch could not resist being recognized. He lifted her hand to his mustached mouth and pressed a kiss to it. “At your service ma’am.” Arthur hardly recognized Peggy through the performance she was putting on, but Dutch was enthralled. He took her hand in the crook of his arm. “Mr. Pearson,” he called. “We have a guest! Please ensure that dinner is your finest!” He steered her away from the crowd. Arthur merely stood there.

  
“That accent, is it southern?” She pulled her shoulders back in pride. “Yes sir, Kentucky.” Dutch squinted at her. “And how did your family fight in 1861?” Peggy straightened her chin. “My grandfather fought valiantly for the preservation of the Union. His father was dear friends with Henry Clay.” Dutch’s smile grew wider and he turned back to Arthur. “Oh Arthur, you’ve found a good one.” Arthur merely nodded. He watched Peggy as she continued to charm the camp, when suddenly, her facade dropped.

  
He followed her eyes to see that Micah had joined the crowd. Dutch saw him walk over but did not catch the change in Peggy’s demeanor. “Micah, have you met Peggy, the angel that has graced our camp this evening?” Micah showed his teeth. It wasn’t clear whether it was a smile or a sneer. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” He reached out for her hand which she reluctantly gave. He bowed deeply and pressed his lips into her knuckles. “Ms. Hampton,” he whispered, his voice sickeningly sweet. Arthur watched Peggy’s face contort into that smile with no joy or warmth. He hadn’t seen it in days. “Micah, hello,” she cooed. Dutch seemed pleased enough with the interaction and paraded Peggy elsewhere.

  
Arthur was still frozen where he stood when Hosea walked over. “So, is she here to stay?” he asked quietly. Arthur shook his head. “She wants me to teach her how to survive out here by herself.” Hosea furrowed his brow. “Is that such a good idea?” Arthur shrugged. “I can’t make her do anything. I can only help as much as she’ll let me.” Hosea nodded and patted his arm as he walked away.  
Pearson finished the meal and the camp settled in to eat. Peggy sat beside Arthur around the campfire as they ate and people chattered around them. It was so strange but comfortable to have her there for a meal with the people he considered family. He smiled lightly to himself in between bites. Peggy seemed to notice and nudged him with her shoulder. “What are you smiling at?” He frowned at her dramatically. “Nothing,” She giggled. “You were smiling! I know you were.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Now you’re just making shit up.” They laughed together as they finished their stew.

  
Dark was beginning to settle in. “Are you planning on staying with us tonight, Ms. Hampton?” Dutch called from across the fire. “Oh, no,” Peggy said placidly. “My camp is so close.” Dutch raised an eyebrow at Arthur. “Then Mr. Morgan should get you home before it gets too dark.” Arthur nodded. “Up you go, Peggy. Let’s get you and Monstro home.” Peggy chuckled at her ‘orders’ but followed them anyway. The lanterns and candles of the camp caught the gold in her eyes as she rolled them at him. He smiled again.  
They rode the short trail that he had worn between the camps with ease. She slid off Monstro at her tent and stared up at him on Boudicea. “Goodnight, Mr. Morgan.” He tipped his hat slightly. “Ms. Hampton.” She smiled at him over her shoulder then disappeared into her tent. He lingered for a moment then turned to head home.

  
The night was cool, but the heat of the day lingered in the air. Summer would be here soon. There was much to teach Peggy about surviving in the world, especially with a baby on the way, but he had a feeling she had a lot to teach him about living in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are there activities you would like to see Peggy and Arthur do? Let me know!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 months have passed. Arthur and Peggy go on a roadtrip.

“C’mon, Peg. Focus.” Arthur whispered into her ear. She bit her lip and let his hand guide her arm. His breath was hot on her neck as he readjusted her hips. “Just… keep it tight, and then let it go when you’re ready.” Her breathing was shallow. She held and waited, and waited, and waited until she knew she would hit her mark. She exhaled as the arrow flew from her bow and into the unfortunate rabbit she had been hunting. The animal fell over with a slump and Peggy squealed in delight.

“I did it!” she cried. He bobbed his head and smiled at her. “Took you a few months, but you have finally shown some success with the bow.” She feigned indignation. “I’d like to see how quickly you would adjust to my lifestyle, Arthur.” He laughed. “Oh, however would I adjust to having a housekeeper, and a stable, and a barn, and a cook, and an income that I had to do nothing to earn… You’re right. It might take months, years even, for me to properly adjust. I’d better start as soon as possible.” She rolled her eyes as she picked up the rabbit. He gestured to it. “You good to skin it yourself?” She shrugged. “I think I’m past the throwing up part of pregnancy, but we shall see, I suppose.”

The noon sun highlighted the changes in Peggy’s body, making her shadow round below her. It was early June and the summer was out in full force. It was beautiful, but much different than any summer Peggy had seen before. In a Kentucky summer, everything was soft and green. Even rocks would be overtaken with moss. Out here, the grasses turned golden and the trees had coarse leaves. The lake had at least warmed up, so it was more comfortable to bathe. 

She sat down in the grass and started to cut away at the rabbit. She learned she could sell the pelts, so at least she had some way to replenish her canned peach expenses after she developed a craving for them. She methodically made the cuts and pulled the pelt away from the muscle slowly. She had watched Arthur skin a rabbit, seemingly by just ripping its insides out of its asshole, but she had no interest in learning that skill. 

She finished the skinning then wrapped the meat for the ride home. She stowed it in the saddle bag then turned to Arthur. “What are you thinking? A few more? Or should we just head back?” Arthur shrugged. “I’m not the one eating for more than myself. Will that hold you for a while?” She pursed her lips in thought. “If it doesn’t, I can hunt again later.” 

They mounted up and headed for camp. She had made small improvements to it since her first week arriving. She had purchased a larger canvas and the four corners were held up by four large logs with a taller post in the middle to create a roof. It was a far cry from the family estate, but it served her well for the time being. She used the smaller canvas to protect her fire from the elements. She had a cooking spit now, along with another set of dishes and utensils for her frequent visitor. Her little spot of shoreline had become home now. 

They arrived at camp and Peggy let herself roll off of Monstro. Riding was still no issue, but getting off and on posed a serious problem with her growing belly. Arthur chuckled as he watched her. “Y’know, no matter how often I see you do that, it’s still funny.” She glared at him but gave no answer. “It makes me think riding might be a problem for you soon.” he said past her glare. She laughed lightly. “You’ll have to get a sled and tie me up to Boudicea if you want me to go anywhere.” He paused for a moment, seeming to ponder the possibility. “A wagon? I think we country folk call that a wagon.” Peggy rolled her eyes in embarrassment. “That’s it, goodbye Mr. Morgan.” she said, playfully dismissing him. 

“About that,” he said quietly. Her eyebrows immediately shot up. “I won’t be around for a little while.” Her chest tightened. Whether it was anxiety at being alone or sadness from being away from  _ him _ she wasn’t sure. “What’s a little while?” She asked cautiously. He fumbled with his hands and watched them as he spoke. “At least a week or two.” She blinked rapidly and swallowed. “Oh. Okay,” she responded tightly. “When are you leaving?” He grimaced at her and met her eyes. “Arthur!” she exclaimed, swatting chastisingly. “So you just waited until the very last moment to tell me?” “Well, I-I-I-” he stuttered. “It’s not like I was looking forward to it.” 

She felt her heart pang and steeled her face. “Where are you going?” 

“We have some business in Saint Denis. We’re getting a shipment in that port and taking it to Blackwater to sell.” 

Peggy nodded and turned away from him. “Well, be careful. I can’t come rescue you when you’re that far away.” 

He put his hands in his pockets and kicked at the dirt. “I should go then.” 

Peggy waved dismissively over her shoulder as she poked at the fire. “Don’t let me stop you.” 

She felt him frown at her. “Peg,” he pleaded. 

She looked up at him sternly. “What? You said you needed to go. Go.” 

He exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to leave you here.” 

“That sounds like a you problem, buddy. I will be here, come hell or high water. And I will be fine. I do not need babysat.” 

“What are you so angry at me for? Hmm?” he asked, the frustration growing in his voice. “Where is this coming from?” 

“I am not angry with you!” she yelled, her volume and tone revealing the lie in her words. “If you need to leave, then please, for the love of Christ, leave me.” 

“Leave you? Leave  _ you? _ ” God dammit, Peggy, I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t have to. Come with me, then, if you’re this upset about it!” He retorted, throwing his hands back defensively. 

Peggy paused. “Come… with you?” she said quietly.

“Yes! If it will make you happy, then please, load your pregnant ass into the wagon with me and I will drive you to Saint Denis.” He cried, exasperated. 

Peggy stood frozen. She hadn’t expected him to invite her in the slightest. She was only picking a fight to make it easier when he left. She hadn’t been on her own since her arrival and the thought intimidated her. She glanced around. “What about my camp? About Monstro?” “We can take your tent and supplies to my camp. Monstro can stay with the other horses until we get back.” Arthur responded placidly. Peggy eyed him then eyed her tent. “My tent is bigger. We should bring mine instead.” He shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy, princess.” 

They packed her camp up and loaded Monstro and Boudicea up to carry it to the gang’s camp. Javier nodded to them as they passed by. Peggy had become such a regular enough fixture around camp that no one seemed to notice or mind when she was around except for Dutch. He could never resist the urge to shower her in affection and comment on the glow that her pregnancy had given. She tolerated him well enough, but mostly so she could turn and see Arthur’s blue eyes turn green. 

They loaded the wagon undisturbed. Arthur hopped easily into the driver’s seat, but her belly kept Peggy on the ground. He noticed her quickly and hoisted her up. She was breathing heavily from the exertion. She caught his eye to see he was watching her. She narrowed her eyes. “What?” He forced his smile away and shrugged as he told the horses to giddy up. 

They made it to the Montana fording point in no time at all and the horses crossed it with ease. Peggy watched around them anxiously, but everything went smoothly. She settled back in when all of the wheels were on dry land. She glanced at the sky and realized that they had left relatively late in the day for such a long journey. “About how long do you anticipate the trip down taking?” she asked nonchalantly. “Probably 9 or so hours.” Peggy’s jaw fell. “Then why on earth did we leave so late in the day?” Arthur shot her a sidelong glance. “We’ll camp around the halfway point tonight, get an early start, then be in town by the time the docks open.” She nodded in understanding, wishing she could think of these things before having to ask them.

The scenery got progressively greener as they went south, but they never left Flatiron Lake. Peggy wasn’t sure quite how they were driving, but it seemed they were hugging the northern shore and heading south. Was Saint Denis on the Flatiron? She didn’t know, and she was too afraid of looking the fool to ask him. The lushness of the grass and trees felt much more like home to a southerner like Peggy. She wondered if she had merely picked the wrong shore of the Flatiron to settle down. It did give her vicious homesickness though, and she clutched her belly in an effort to comfort herself. She began to sing softly.

_ Round Prairie Road _

_ Just how far do you go? _

_ Suddenly you feel so far away _

_ Spent too much time _

_ With my ladder to climb _

_ Maybe we can meet again someday _

_ Maybe we can meet again someday _

Arthur looked over to her and she noticed, but she left her eyes on the lake. 

_ Give me back _

_ My dying angel _

_ I long to hold her still _

_ How I miss _

_ Her lucid water _

_ And her golden hills _

_ I've been careless _

_ Let her falter _

_ Watched her slip away _

_ Left her helpless _

_ At the altar _

_ Passing lines down the old highway _

When she came to the chorus again, she heard an unexpected bass line as Arthur joined her. 

_ Round Prairie Road _

_ Just how far do you go? _

_ Suddenly you feel so far away _

_ Spent too much time _

_ Drinking brandy and wine _

_ Maybe we can meet again someday _

_ Maybe we can meet again someday _

She took the next verse by herself, stroking her belly as she sang. 

_ Gently sleeping _

_ In the cradle _

_ As the oak trees sway _

_ Dawn is breaking _

_ A day in making _

_ Slowly taking my time away _

The chorus came again and they sang it together. She sang the last  _ Maybe we can meet again someday _ and stared east. She missed Kentucky, her horse Felicity, the life she had before, but when she smiled over at Arthur, she knew she was making something new. His small smile back was the only acknowledgement they gave to the moment they had just shared. They simply drove on into the now-setting sun.

The lake looked like it was on fire as the sunlight caught it on its way down. Peggy had never seen the sun set on the lake because she lived on the west coast. The oranges and pinks lit up the sky and cascaded along the softly moving water. She leaned her elbow on the arm rest of the wagon and sighed. “It’s so beautiful out here.” She heard Arthur hum his agreement behind her. 

“We should stop for the night; that sunset won’t last much longer,” he said, veering off the road. He drove through thick trees and underbrush until a clearing seemed to come out of nowhere. “What a convenient little spot,” she mused. He stopped the wagon and jumped off with ease. Peggy stared down, wondering how best to hop down. Arthur appeared from around the back of the wagon. “Havin’ trouble there, mama?” She smiled sheepishly. “C’mon then,” he said, holding his arms out. She slid into them and let him ease her down. After her feet hit the ground, she smiled stiffly and straightened out her skirts. He swallowed and nodded briskly before unpacking the camping supplies.

Arthur wedged the posts of Peggy’s tent into the red clay and tossed the canvas over it while she built a fire. Arthur unrolled one sleeping bag with a puzzled look. “Peg?” he asked. She looked up. “Did you pack your bedroll?” She furrowed her brow. “I thought I did?” He walked back to the wagon but still came back with nothing. She wiped her hands from dealing with the fire and went to look for herself. In her luggage, she found 3 days worth of clothes and a blanket, but not her bed roll. She walked back over to the tent looking as guilty as a dog that had been caught in the hen house. Arthur saw her and shook his head.

“Well, I guess we’ll just lay my bag out flat and use your blanket for warmth. It’s not like it’s cold anyhow.” Peggy sucked on her tongue. “You probably should have just left me at home.” she muttered. “Ah, but I didn’t, and we’re here now. Come eat something.” He began roasting some meat he brought with them and cracked open a can of peaches for Peggy. She slurped them down like they were water. She supposed there were stranger cravings to have, and at least peaches were cheap. 

They finished their dinner as the darkness settled around them. The shadows of the fire hit Arthur’s face, making the angles of his cheeks and jaw seem sharper than they were in the day. He had trimmed down his winter beard to light stubble. His eyes looked nearly green in the yellow of the fire. She grew frustrated with herself for noticing these things. She stood and walked over to the tent and began to ready herself for bed.

She stepped out of her dress but left her slip on. She untied her hair and the mess of curls tumbled down her chest and back. She pulled out her comb and tried to run it through with no luck. She was grumbling under her breath when Arthur walked into the tent. He watched her carefully for a moment before asking “do you need help with that?” She shook her head. “It’s hopeless, I’m afraid.” He gestured for her to sit down on the bedroll and he sat behind her with both knees to her left. She reluctantly handed over the comb and lowered her heavy self in front of him. He began to lightly pull the comb through, working through snarls as gently as he could. 

She was unsure of what to feel as he tucked a curl behind her ear as he worked. There was something comfortable, homey,  _ intimate _ about this. No one else had touched her hair since she left home. In fact, she had barely touched it when she could avoid it. It had grown nearly to her waist by now and was threatening to mat in some places due to the neglect. Arthur said nothing and kept working. 

“It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing,” he murmured to her as he passed back the comb. She ran her fingers through it and was flabbergasted that she could actually run her fingers through it. She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible. He nodded and turned to take his boots off. She tied her hair back up and laid down. He joined her soon, still wearing everything but his boots.

“Do you typically sleep in all of your clothes?” she asked without looking at him. 

“I don’t typically sleep beside you,” came his gravely response.

She shrugged and rolled with her back to him. “Please, sleep comfortably. Don’t be modest on my account.”

She heard him shuffling around then his belt clank off. She remained facing away and vowed to herself to stay there the rest of the night. 

Despite the distance between them, Peggy was acutely aware that she was sleeping beside someone else. She hadn’t spent the night beside someone since she was a child and the passive heat that radiated from him made her sweat. She eventually drifted off into something akin to unconsciousness but not quite sleep. To sleep would be to lose control and she was determined to keep her own space away from him. 

~~~

Arthur laid flat on his back and listened to Peggy breathe. He knew he needed to sleep, but being this close to her had sent him spiraling. He closed his eyes, but the feel of her hair in his hands lingered in his mind, the sound of her singing voice floating through his thoughts. And there she was, snoring lightly beside him. He rubbed his face in exasperation at himself and attempted to sleep. 

He was awoken not much later by a rumble of thunder. He cursed under his breath and buttoned the tent shut and forced the posts a little lower into the clay. He laid back down and let the rain fall onto the tent above them. It was soothing and quiet for a moment until lightning cracked. Given the time between the two, Arthur would guess the storm was fairly close by. He stopped breathing to listen to Peggy, who had stopped snoring but was still asleep. He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

Thunder rolled across the sky. It felt immediately above their heads. The wind was picking up now and the tent gently swayed around them. A moment passed before he heard lightning again as it reverberated through the trees. 

Peggy stirred but did not wake. 

Thunder clapped again, even louder this time, and Peggy shot straight up with a scream. 

Before Arthur could say anything, lightning struck a tree nearby.

She screamed out again, her confusion evident. 

Arthur held out his hands and quietly shushed her. “Peg, Peg, it’s okay. It’s just a storm.” 

He could not see her face in the dark, but he could see the tension in her silhouette. 

She stared at him, still unsure.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

She sleepily rolled over to him and he laid back down. When he was flat, she curled up onto his chest. He felt stiff as a board, unable to relax with her so close. Her palm was pressed into his bare chest, her belly pressed into his hip, and her thigh crossed his. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been held like this. He was determined to stay awake and not throw away this moment. Despite this determination, he drifted back to sleep almost immediately. 

He woke up later with the birds singing around them. He glanced down his body to see Peggy snoring and sprawled across him. He froze. How could he move without waking her up? He knew she would be flustered if she realized the position she was in. His mind raced as he fought for a solution. He did the only thing he could do to save her the embarrassment: he shook her awake then pretended to be asleep.

She stirred as he moved her then blinked awake when he was still. He felt her tense next to him. “Oh god,” she whispered. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.” She slowly peeled away from him then dashed across the tent. He heard her groan and scream lightly into her pillow. He felt a laugh grow in his chest, so he pretended to stir and rolled over.  _ Arthur, _ she whispered.  _ Are you awake?” _ He inhaled sharply and stretched like he was really waking up. “I am now.” He rolled to face her. She was rearranging her hair, trying to hide the dent that laying on Arthur’s chest had created. “We should get moving.” she said sternly. He yawned. “Yes ma’am.”

They repacked with the speed of a well-oiled machine. Their time together over the last few months had created an efficient comfort between them. They worked well now without having to speak or explain, falling into a rhythm that both felt but neither could explain. It was seldom that Arthur felt so in sync to anyone. 

They rode out of the clearing and back to the road to Saint Denis. They were heading much further south today and the heat of the rising sun reflected that. He wiped the sweat off of his brow and glanced over at Peggy. She still seemed stiff after her wake up and held her pregnant belly with both hands clasped under it. “That was, uh, some storm last night.” he mused as he drove. She shot her eyes over to him in surprise. “There was a storm?” He nodded. “Real big one. You didn’t hear it?” She wrinkled her face as she tried to recall. “No… no, I guess I didn’t.” He shrugged.

As they came around the bend, the city of Saint Denis seemed to grow out of the haze and humidity. Arthur watched Peggy’s face contort to a mix of wonder and pain. “I haven’t seen a city in so long.” 

“Does Lexington consider itself a city?” 

She rolled her eyes at him and tossed him a glare over her shoulder. “It’s sure as shit not Blackwater.” 

He chuckled. “I suppose you’ve seen Louisville too… the superior Kentucky town.”

At this point, her jaw was slack and she was climbing across the bench of the wagon to smack him. “Take it back!” she cried between slaps and dodges. 

He belly-laughed at her and fended her off with one hand while the other drove. “Alright, alright! Louisville is  _ not _ the superior Kentucky town, despite the Derby and everything else that Lexington cannot offer!” 

A pair of men on horseback passed them on the road as Peggy was finishing the fight with an indignant “You’re damn right, you bloody fool!” They shared a surprised glance between each other then at Arthur. He tipped his hat and chuckled. “Mornin’ to ya.” 

Peggy folded her arms in front of her, something that was growing nearly impossible with her growing belly and swollen breasts, and  _ humphed  _ back down into her seat. 

They were approaching the bridge across the Lanahanche River that welcomed them into the city. “So here’s the plan,” Arthur said, slowing the wagon to reflect the city traffic. “I will drop you by the hotel here in town. I’ll go to the docks and check on my business. We’ll stay in the hotel until we can load up that shipment, then head back toward Blackwater.” 

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, still folded up. “So you expect me to sit in a room alone until...when?” She asked, her tone sassy and indignant. 

Arthur sighed. “As soon as I can get a better idea of when this shipment is coming in, I will come back. Maybe we can go see a show or something.”

He watched as Peggy realized they were in civilization, which meant civilized entertainment. She quickly wiped away her enthusiasm and settled for a cool “fine.” 

He chuckled at her and continued to drive. 

They rolled up to the hotel. Once again, Peggy couldn’t comfortably leave the wagon on her own, so Arthur helped her down. They opened the doors and walked toward the bar. It was only 10 am, but it was crawling with rich people with too much money to drink away. Peggy looked around in discomfort, so he grabbed her hand and pulled her with him through the crowd. “Hi, yes, my wife and I would like to rent a room for at least the next three days.” he said politely to the bartender as Peggy dug her fingernails into his palm. He nodded and handed them a key from under the counter. “Right at the top of the stairs there, to the left. And congratulations on the baby!” he said. Peggy smiled warmly at him and thanked him. Arthur kept a hold of her hand as he led her upstairs. Once they were around the corner and away from the crowd, she threw his hand down and glared.

“Your  _ wife?”  _ she hissed.

He unlocked the door. “Would you rather be my whore on this trip, Ms. Hampton?” 

She gasped at him. “You’re an impetulant ass, Arthur Morgan, and I might be very displeased with you if this room wasn’t absolutely beautiful.” She ran past him and threw herself back first onto the bed. He chuckled at her. “Well, you enjoy it here, and I’ll be back soon.  _ Do not go anywhere, _ ma’am? Am I understood?” She wrinkled her eyebrows at him. “Kiss my ass.” “Peggy,” he said, all humor in his voice gone. “Please stay here.” 

She scoffed at him. “Fine, go run your errands.” 

As he turned to leave her, she was rolling in the blankets and giggling like a child.

He took the wagon to the docks to find Josiah Trelawney, the man who had orchestrated this grand trade-off. He found him leaning against a post near the trolley station. “Trelawney,” he called. “Where’s our boat?” 

“Arthur, my boy!” Trelawney greeted him with a warm and exaggerated handshake. “Our boat is… not here yet, I’m afraid. But by Tuesday, assuredly.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “That’s five days from now!” 

Trelawney put his hands up defensively. “Now, now, Mr. Morgan. Patience. This will be the easiest money you’ve ever made. You merely show up with your wagon, and you will take some packages addressed to Tacitus Kilgore back home to Blackwater, sell them to the store, and go on your way. Easy as pie.” 

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “And how did you set up this little arrangement?” 

“We’re merely changing the supply chain. Instead of paying the poor fools who actually packaged these supplies, they’ll pay you. It’s capitalism, my boy.” 

Arthur shook his head. “You’re a different breed, Trelawney.” 

He clapped him on the arm. “And this is why you keep me. Can I buy you a drink?”

He shook his head. “I need to get back to my room before Peggy burns the place down.”

Trelawney pretended to be scandalized. “A woman? In your room? Already? Arthur, you haven’t been in town an hour!” 

Arthur sighed, exasperated. “She came with me from Blackwater. She’s certainly something, but she’s far from what you’re insinuating.”

Trelawney’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Is she running with Dutch now?”

He shook his head again. “No, no. She’s just a friend I’ve made.”

He put on a somber air. “In all our years, Arthur, I have never once heard you accuse a soul of being your friend. I must meet this woman at once and determine whether the social deficit is hers or your own.” 

“I’m not sure what she’s still doing with me either. I don’t know if she would appreciate company.” he lied through his teeth, knowing damn well that Trelawney would lavish Peggy in attention and she would eat it up.

“Are you embarrassed of me, Arthur?” Trelawney asked feigning indignance. 

Arthur left his face straight and cold. “Yes, Trelawney, very much so,” he said dryly.

Trelawney chuckled and grabbed Arthur’s elbow. “Bring me to Peggy!” 

The men hopped in the wagon and headed back for the hotel. Arthur walked Trelawney to the bar when they arrived. “Wait here; I’ll go get her,” he said, throwing down a coin for the other man’s drink. Arthur jogged up the stairs and knocked on their door. “Ms. Hampton, are you decent?” he called. 

No answer. 

He knocked again. “Peggy, are you okay?”

No answer.

“Peggy, this isn’t funny,” he said, his voice growing agitated. 

When there was no answer still, he opened the door. The room was empty. 

“ _ Peggy! Damn you!”  _ he cursed. 

He heard a door fly open behind him. There stood Peggy, dripping wet and barely covered in her towel. “Is there a problem, Mr. Morgan?” she hissed. 

Arthur blanched. “I-uh-I-uh I couldn’t find you,”

She placed a hand on her hip. “I was taking a bath. Am I allowed to take a bath?” 

“Of course you can take a bath, I just-” he said quickly, trying to regain his lost ground.

“You just what?” She retorted. Her hands had an attitude of their own and the more agitated she became, the more she risked dropping her precariously hanging towel. 

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed them both through the doorway to the bathtub, closing the door behind him. “ I just  _ panicked, okay?”  _ he said hoarsely. “I didn’t know where you were and I panicked.” 

She glowered at him. “If my water is cold, you owe me a fresh bath.” She turned from him. “Do you mind? I’d like to get back in now.”

He averted his eyes quickly, unaware that he had been staring at the curve of her hip that the towel couldn’t reach. He bolted for the door then spoke to her with his back turned. “I brought someone who wants to meet you. When you’re ready, come see us at the bar.” 

She agreed quietly and he slid out of the door. 

He walked back down the stairs alone. Trelawney was visibly disappointed. “Where’s our little wonder? Won’t she be joining us?” 

“Peggy is… busy. She’ll be down soon.”

Trelawney looked him over. “My god, man, are you wet?”

Arthur faced the back of the bar and sipped the drink Trelawney had ordered for him. “Shut up and drink.” 

Nearly an hour had passed and Trelawney was getting restless. “I’m beginning to wonder whether your damsel really exists, Arthur.”

“A damsel? Who called me a damsel?” came a woman’s voice behind them. 

The men turned to see Peggy, her clean curls arranged beautifully on her head and tied with a ribbon to match a dress Arthur hadn’t seen before. She had powdered her face and rouged her lips a soft red. The powder on her face made her dark colorings seem even darker. He stared at her for several seconds, drinking in her appearance. 

She blinked at him daintily. “Aren’t you going to introduce your friend, Arthur?” 

He swallowed hard then came back to earth. “Ms. Hampton, this is Josiah Trelawney. Trelawney, Margaret Hampton.” 

She turned on the same charm he had seen her use with Dutch. “Please, call me Peggy.” 

Trelawney kissed her hand. “I’d be delighted to, Peggy.” 

She sat down and charmed him the way she could nearly any man she had ever met. As the two playfully sparred, he wondered why she had latched onto him? She clearly could have conned any poor sap into raising her baby, but here she was, attached to him, insisting she would raise it on her own. 

By the time Trelawney left, it was nearly bedtime. They had dinner in the bar and Peggy scarfed it down like she hadn’t eaten in months. She smiled up at him from her lamb like a ravenous child. How she was not only still beautiful, but more beautiful, to him in those strange little moments he had no clue. But she was, and the joy she took in small pleasures gave him joy to watch. Trelawney kissed her goodbye and shook Arthur’s hand when he departed, vowing to see Peggy every day before they left town. Arthur rolled his eyes.

They walked upstairs to the bed that Peggy had rumpled when she dove into it. She was obviously exhausted from charming Trelawney when she plopped down on it. “You know,” he said, “You don’t have to charm my friends with the full extent of your soul. Your usual venom will do them quite nicely.” 

She sighed and washed the makeup off in the basin of water on the dresser. “I can’t help it; I’m too southern.” 

He nodded slowly. “So when you talk to me, you’re not southern?” 

She rolled her eyes and watched him behind her in the mirror. “Would you rather me turn on the charm for you? Never speak a cross word nor the letter ‘r’?” She turned to him and curtseyed. “Mista Mohgan,” she said in an exaggerated southern accent. “How do you do, suh?” She extended her hand to him to kiss. 

He stared at her, unsure how far to take this game. 

“My wohd! Does the gentleman not know that he should lay a small kiss upon a lady’s hand? Well I nevah!” 

He shook his head and hastily kissed her hand as the blood rushed to his face. “Please never do that again.” he mumbled.

She cackled at him. “You’ve answered your own question. I am not the southern belle with you to our mutual benefit. If you had to play the part of the southern gentleman, you would be immensely uncomfortable. And if I had to pretend to be nice to you all day, I might just barf.” 

She pulled her dress over her head, leaving her slip again. He tried not to watch, but the bump that was growing a new life seemed to grow every day. November would be here soon, sooner than they imagined. She had already grown so large that it was difficult for him to imagine her getting any bigger. He began to undress himself in an effort to distract himself from her body.

They climbed into bed together, both of them seeming to try very hard to keep their distance. It felt harder now than it did in the tent. He was acutely aware of the heat from her body. She rolled away from him the way she did in the tent and he almost felt relief that she had broken the tension. He laid down and closed his eyes. He was just nodding off to sleep when he felt Peggy roll over. He opened his eyes to see her hair hanging around her face, which was hovering above his.

“I’m not that person with you because I don’t want to be and I don’t have to be. I like that I can cuss and shoot and hunt and it doesn’t make me less of a woman to you. I like that I can be myself with you.” She said quickly, the confession obviously causing her some distress. 

He blinked up at her, baffled by her proximity and honesty. “You’re always a woman to me, Peg.” 

He saw something shift in her eyes, hidden by the shadows, then she rolled back to her edge of the bed just as quickly as she had spoken. 

He stared at the ceiling, his chest aching with all of the things he wished he understood enough to tell her. He was comfortable with her too, in a way he had never really experienced before. The more he learned about the person he was with Peggy, the more he liked himself. He wanted to tell her all of this, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he heard her lightly snore. He smiled and realized he would have to wait. He drifted off to a deep sleep, one he didn’t realize he had missed desperately for years. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song they sing, "Round Prairie Road," is a real song by Jamestown Revival! It's such a sad and sweet song that I thought fit them so well.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy goes for a walk in the city; mishaps ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took me forever! It was a difficult chapter to write. Please enjoy!

Peggy woke gently as the city itself came to life. She heard the birds, the carriages, the trolley as their days began. She smiled into her pillow, luxuriating in having a real mattress, real bedding and pillows. She stretched out her arms and felt Arthur’s warm back. She moved to roll toward him, to snuggle in before their day had to start too. Just as she sat up, her mind woke up. She jumped away from him, clutching her hands to her chest.  _ Oh god, _ she thought.  _ What am I doing?  _ She shuddered to herself and got out of bed. 

She threw a blanket over her shoulders and went to stand on the balcony attached to their room. The city was alive and well on this Saturday morning. The chatter below was a slew of  _ hellos _ ,  _ good mornings,  _ and  _ bon jours _ . Peggy had misjudged how badly she missed the city. It was beautiful and she slept better in a real bed, but the air… didn’t feel quite right in her chest. The humidity made it hot and heavy, but there was something unnatural and harsh about it. The smog from the factories turned sweet southern air into something bitter. To be honest, she missed her lake and her camp. She missed the freedom of being herself away from prying eyes. 

She heard a small rap on the door behind her. Arthur stood with an unbuttoned shirt and pants on. The morning sun hit his body and the contour of his muscles cast shadows across him. She glanced over her shoulder at him, then turned back to watching the street as she leaded on the rail. He leaned with her.

“I’m gonna go check on the ship,” he said, his eyes following a buggy that passed.

“Alright,” she mumbled back. 

She felt him give her a strange look but she didn’t meet his eye. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She shrugged and repositioned against the rail. “Peachy.”

He smacked his lips and walked away from her. “I’ll be back.”

She went back inside when she was sure he was gone. She put a dress on but didn’t bother to powder her face today. She opened a can of peaches from Arthur’s things, thankful he had packed them for her. She rubbed her temples, unwilling and unprepared to face the day.

She walked down through the bar and out onto the street, thinking a walk might clear her head. She crossed the street to a small park with a fountain in the middle. People milled about around her as she stepped carefully along the cobblestones. Her body carried her through Saint Denis, but her mind was a thousand miles away.

The idea that Arthur and Ben had existed at the same time made her uncomfortable. It was easier to imagine that the world collapsed with Ben’s chest and when she survived that, the world was a different place entirely. She didn’t want to think that at some point, they buried Ben without her there and worked very hard to make sure that no one knew the connection between them, the life she was growing inside her. They wouldn’t know how profoundly she loved him. When she blinked, she could see his amber eyes staring at her, challenging her, laughing at her and with her. She winced to recall his body, the way it felt when he was on top of her, inside her. She stared along the Saint Denis street and wondered if she would ever feel that way about anyone again.

Her thoughts drifted from what was to what will be. Her hands instinctively went to her belly. She had felt kicks and punches from tiny fists and feet more and more lately. They were a constant reminder that at some point this fall, she would give birth alone in a tent. 

_ Alone. _

The word lingered in her mind. The thought felt disingenuous. Since her arrival in West Elizabeth, she had been far from alone. Arthur had been there for her every step of the way, even after she had screamed at him for doing exactly that. He had been kinder than she probably deserved and it wasn’t fair to him to say she would be giving birth alone. He would be there as much as he could. 

Her brow wrinkled as she thought about Arthur, this outlaw who was simultaneously nothing and  _ everything _ to her. When he came to mind, she thought of comfort, she thought of the home she had created around him, with him. The idea of being without him scared her, which in itself scared her. She didn’t want to need him. She didn’t want to need anyone. He could be arrested at any moment and leave her, just the same as Ben. She wondered if she should distance herself from him. She could always stay in the city, let him leave her behind. 

She had wandered several blocks at this point. She looked for landmarks around her but recognized nothing. She cursed under her breath and decided to turn around and go back the way she came. The sun was high in the sky now and the heat was oppressive. Her ankles were swelling with the pregnancy. She cursed herself again for deciding to sulk on the move. 

She was gaining her bearings when she heard her name. She shook it off and figured it was from the deep dive into her grief. “ _ Margaret Hampton _ !” came the voice again. She spun around to see a ghost from her past. “Henry Grant?” she asked, clearly confused. “Maggie, darling, how are you?” Henry ran over and embraced her, kissing her cheek.

Peggy chuckled nervously. “Henry, hi… what are you doing out here?”

“I’m out here doing some business for your daddy! What are you doing out here? The last I heard, you were visiting family in Cincinnati!” He exclaimed.

“I… got married! My husband is in oil, so we came down for some business.” 

“Well shit, Maggie! I dunno why no one told me that.” he said, scratching his head. 

She smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, me either. I got married in April.”

He shook his head at her. “I never thought you’d marry… I thought no one would ever be good enough.” 

Peggy felt her temper rise. “Telling you no doesn’t mean I’ll tell everyone no.”

Henry set his jaw. “Where is this husband of yours, anyway?” 

She cooled in response. “He’s in a work meeting. I was just walking back to the hotel. Tell Daddy I said hello. Bye now.” She started to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm.

“When are you due, Mag?” he hissed.

She glared at him through the corner of her eye. “Excuse me?” 

“You didn’t gain that much weight on beignets and gumbo, and you’re awfully big to have gotten pregnant in April.” his tone was slow and threatening. 

She swallowed. “Henry, you need to let me go.”

“You got shipped off for getting knocked up, didn’t you?” He sneered at her. “Right after you cried over that stable boy who took a hoof to the heart too... what a coincidence.” 

“ _ Get off of me, _ ” Peggy said, gritting her teeth. 

“Why?” He leaned in closer to her face. “You’re a spoiled woman. There’s no husband to come save you, no father for this bastard. I could waste you and you’d be nothing more than a Saint Denis whore.” 

She heard someone call her name again but this time she recognized it. “What’s the problem here, Peg? Is this man bothering you?” Arthur asked as he jogged over. Peggy smiled up at him. “Hi dear, Henry was just leaving.” Henry dropped her arm and looked at Arthur with disdain. “Is this the poor fool pretending to be your husband?” Arthur glared in a way she had rarely seen, with anger boiling over in his ice blue eyes. “You listen here. You might know Peggy, but you don’t know me. I will rip your  _ fucking tongue out _ if I hear you speak another word to her.” 

Despite this, Henry opened his mouth, but a look from Arthur shut him up. 

“Sir, it is in the best interest of your health and happiness if you walk away now and keep walking until the Lanahechee swallows you up.” 

Henry glowered again but turned on his heels and walked away. 

Peggy slumped against his arm when Henry was out of sight. He looked down at her, his eyes a mix of anger and concern, then his sight followed Henry. Her chest was tight and tears threatened to leak as the adrenaline faded. Arthur slid his arm around her, placing his hand in the small of her back. “Let’s get out of here,” he growled and steered her away. She moved without further prompting. He wrapped his hand around hers and led her back to the hotel. His shoulder seemed to hide her as they walked and his eyes darted around the crowds, as if they searched for another threat. She frowned at the sidewalk, cursing herself for causing him such stress.

The hotel was just around the corner. She had felt so lost and distant, but she hadn’t gone far. She felt worse now for letting herself get turned around in such a short time. He opened the door with his free hand, leaving hers in the other. He walked them through the bar and up the stairs. He shut their room behind him as they walked in and dropped her hand. Peggy squeezed her own fist in his absence and watched him anxiously as he paced around the room. 

He rubbed his face with both hands then turned to her. “So, who was that?” 

She stared at the rug, feeling as empty as her voice sounded. “Henry Grant. Daddy’s business manager. He’s been trying to marry me for years. I’ve always despised him. He recognized me then put the pieces together of me being pregnant so far from home.”

Arthur marched to and fro, the heel of his boots echoing across the hardwood. “I thought I asked you to stay here.”

Peggy frowned. “I needed a walk.”

He spun to face her. “If you had waited ten minutes, I could have gone with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a chaperone.”

“You could have been hurt!” the volume of his voice raising with his anger.

She stood up, putting her face close to his. “And why do you care? If I were gone, you’d have more time to do whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing!”

“Why do I care, Peg?  _ Why do I care?” _ his voice was hoarse with emotion. 

“Just let me go! Let me get myself killed!” she screamed back. She blinked slowly as the fight drained out of her. “Just let me die… let me die.” 

The sob had barely escaped before he had scooped her up into a tight embrace. His hands were flat along her back, pressing him closer to her. He pressed a stubbly cheek to the top of her head as she cried. She felt guilty in his arms, like she was only causing him more trouble. Seeming to sense this, a hand rose to her hair and he quietly stroked it while comforting her. “Oh, Peg… that is the last thing I want to do.” The sincerity of his words made her cry harder.

She thought of Ben and the baby. Her inability to save the one made her terrified of the other. She couldn’t look into her child’s eyes and see his, knowing that child would someday go out in a cruel world where she couldn’t protect them. She couldn’t risk losing Ben a second time. Her child would be better off without her. Arthur would be better off without her. 

Her tears began to dry with her resignation and she pulled away from Arthur’s chest. He looked down at her, the blue of his eyes soft and still like the ocean calming after a storm. She swallowed, unable to put into words the dread and darkness in her heart. 

He brought his hand to her cheek and wiped a tear away. “The world is a better place with you in it, you impossible woman.” He smiled gently. “ _ My _ world is a better place with you in it.” 

She frowned at him and looked away. He grabbed her chin and held her eyes again.

“Listen to me,” he implored.

She watched his face as he seemed to struggle for the words.

“I’ve got your back, no matter how many Henry Grants show up. I’m here for you, whatever, whenever you need. All you have to do is let me.”

His words twisted her heart like a knife, but the emotion in his eyes quieted her reservations. She nodded quietly in response. 

“You must be tired from your escapade. Why don’t you lay down for a while then we can find something to do?” he said, his tone still soft and sweet.

She nodded again and let him steer her toward the bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, the world faded around her and she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

~~

Arthur sat in a chair by the window and watched Peggy as she slept. He replayed their conversation over and over, lingering on the words he could not say.  _ I love you, I would never let anything happen to you. _

_ Why do I care, Peg? Isn’t it obvious? I love you. _

_ I love you. _

The phrase and its meaning circled his head. He wasn’t sure what it meant to love someone, but as he watched her lay peacefully in the bed they had been sharing, his chest tightened. She had become a part of his life, the best part, the reason he woke up and last thought in his mind before he went to sleep. Her strength was incredible, her laugh infectious, her warmth enough to reach the deepest, coldest parts of him.

_ I love you. _

He had never had a relationship that felt the way Peggy’s did. He loved Mary, absolutely, but she was not his friend. He loved Eliza too, but not romantically. Peggy was the best friend he had ever had. He loved her as a companion. He loved her as a woman. And soon, he would love her as a mother. 

_ I love you. _

He thought about what would happen if he had said those words out loud to her. Would she push him away the way she tried to today? Or would she reciprocate? The question haunted him. What he wanted more than anything was to make her happy. He couldn’t risk that by telling her how he felt. He smiled to himself with the realization, no matter how strenuous it might be to say out loud, that he did love her. He loved her. He loved her. He tipped his hat over his face and took a nap in the chair where he sat, giving her space on the bed and helping him pass the afternoon.

He woke up when he heard her stir. He opened his eyes as she sat up. “Are you feelin’ any better?” he asked, the sleep like gravel in his voice. She smiled slightly and nodded. “Nothing a nap can’t fix, I suppose.” 

He stood and smoothed his shirt. “What would you like to do tonight? Dinner? A show?”

She scoffed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I don’t have anything appropriate for fine Saint Denis dining or entertainment, and if I did… it certainly doesn’t fit anymore.”

An idea popped in his head. “Let’s go get something then. We won’t be this close to fashion for a long time. Let’s get clothes appropriate for a night on the town, then hit it.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s senseless to buy a dress when my body is changing every day.”

He smiled down at her where she sat on the bed. “C’mon… let’s be senseless., together.” He held out his hand to her. “Please?”

Peggy chuckled at him. “Arthur Morgan, you are a fool.” Her dark eyes looked up into his and his stomach flipped. She sucked her teeth then gave up. “You’re buying the dress.” she laughed as she stood. He grinned at her, offered his elbow, and led her downstairs.

He hoisted her in the wagon then drove to the tailor. Her mood was slowly improving as they drove. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She caught his eye and playfully glared at him. It made him happy to see her joke and play with him again.

They parked the wagon and Arthur eased Peggy down to the ground. The tailor was on an elevated town square and he offered his hand to her to help her up the stairs. She didn’t release his hand at the landing, but instead slid her hand through the crook of his arm. He smiled to himself and opened the door to the tailor.

Arthur shook the clerk’s hand. “Sir, we would like a pair of fine outfits for a night on town tonight. Nicest you have.” The clerk eyed them warily, but took him back to try clothes on. A woman came out to help Peggy and took her to a separate area of the store.

“What is the occasion, sir?” the clerk asked.

“My wife and I are leaving town soon so we wanted to take in as much of Saint Denis as we could before we left. We’re going out to a fancy dinner and a show tonight.”

“ _ Oui, monsieur."  _

He found Arthur an elegant suit and adjusted the lengths to fit him like a glove. He saw himself in the mirror and realized he looked happier than he had in a long time. He avoided mirrors when he could, but this time, he hardly recognized himself. He was in love.

“Let us show your wife, sir,” the man said, steering him back out into the main lobby. At the same time, Peggy was stepping out in her dress. He saw her and was rendered speechless.

She had been fitted in a honey-toned dress with a hoop skirt that hid the baby bump.The bodice laced across the front and lifted her breasts. Her hair curled down her shoulders and back, the darkness of it glittering against the glow of her dress. Her eyes shone like stars behind the smile in her cheeks. He was so busy staring at her that he didn’t notice her staring at him, the same sense of wonder on her face. 

“You… you look like an angel,” he stuttered out.

She smiled meekly. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” 

The electricity crackled between them and pulled him close to her.

They drifted ever-closer until there was barely a breath between them. He fought to keep his hands off of her perfect curls as they cascaded around her face.

Peggy’s hands seemed to fall under this same spell and drifted to his tie. “We… can’t have you walking around fine society looking crooked.” she winked, straightening his tie.

He let one hand fall to her shoulder and the other rose to her hip. “Where would I be without you?” he murmured. 

“ _ Monsieur,” _ the clerk called, breaking the spell. Arthur tore his eyes away from Peggy. “Are these outfits to your satisfaction?” the man asked. Arthur pouted his lip. “Yes, yes… these will be… just fine.” They collected their outfits, tossed the money on the counter, and walked out, their eyes still locked on each other. 

They walked around the corner of the elevated market to a cafe. Peggy walked with her hand in his arm again. He felt his shoulders pull themselves back with the pride he felt from walking with her, from her claiming him. They got a table by the window.

He sat across from her after helping her into her seat. The place was elegant and bright with a crystal chandelier hanging from a trayed ceiling. The carpet was a lush green and the fireplace was carved marble. He watched Peggy and realized how at home she looked in the opulence.

“This is, uh… certainly a far cry from a camp on the Flatiron,” he chuckled.

She smiled graciously out the window. “Saint Denis is beautiful, but she’s not home.”

“You wouldn’t want to stay? Be a lady of society and sleep on a real bed?” he teased.

She shrugged. “I thought I missed people, but everything feels so  _ tight _ here. I miss breathing in lake air… seeing the sunrise… fending for myself.” She smiled wryly. “I was just getting the hang of it.” 

“We’ll be back soon,” he laughed, “but until then, let’s let Mr. and Mrs. Callahan enjoy the city, hmm?” 

She rolled her eyes. “How could I forget that we’re married?” she asked coyly.

He feigned hurt. “After all these long, faithful years, you forget your loving husband. Damn, Peg. I’m wounded.”

She sipped her water and watched him over the rim of her glass. “You’ll bear the disappointment as cheerfully as you can.”

Their food came and Peggy dug in happily. There was certainly something to be said for food that Pearson didn’t cook over a campfire and the flavors warmed him. As they ate, he asked her quietly, “Do you miss the food in Lexington?”

She shrugged and took a bite . “It’s a different time to me all together. Longing for Lexington feels something like longing for New York City. I’ve been there, but it feels like a lifetime ago. The details are fuzzy now. I’ve moved on to… different accommodations, to be sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m unhappy out here.”

He felt a glimmer of hope grow within him. “Do you think you could ever be happy here?”

She chuckled. “I’d like to build a house, I think. Set up a real life for myself. Raise some crops and animals, raise my baby. And sleep in a real bed!” 

Thoughts of his nomadic, and decidedly illegal, lifestyle crept into his head. All he wanted was to settle down, but it was impossible for an outlaw. “It’ll work out,” he said quietly as he sawed at his steak.

“What about you? What’s the end goal to this outlaw business?” she asked, taking another bite. 

He blinked at his food, realizing he didn’t think about the ‘end goal’ very often at all. “Well… I guess I don’t know. I suppose if we got enough money, we would hide out somewhere permanently. It’s not something we really think about.” 

“I see,” she nodded, toying with her rice. “I suppose you could come visit us when things get slow.”

He wrinkled his face again. “I suppose,” he mumbled.

She laughed and took a sip of water. “Or you could come play homesteader with us. Although you might get bored when you have no one to shoot.”

He let out a hearty laugh. “Between you and whoever that child ends up becoming, I don’t think I could ever be bored.” 

They finished their dinners and paid the check. She left her hand in the bend of his arm as they walked. The theater was just down the block, so they walked the cobblestones together. The sun was sinking down and the streetlights were slowly coming to life. They poured the city in a golden, romantic light that seemed to shine only for them. People passed them by and dipped their hats or said hello, far more than they had before. 

“We must look a pretty pair,” Peggy mused quietly. “For this many people to say hello.”

Arthur scoffed. “There is certainly a pretty half here, I will admit, but you would shine just as well without me.”

“Who is the moon without her sun? My world is a better place with you in it, you impossible man.” she said, throwing his own words back at him. 

Arthur bought their tickets at the box office and led her inside. The theater was a grand thing, compared to what Arthur was expecting. There was golden trim along the chairs that flickered in the smoky candlelight and a heavy red velvet curtain hiding the stage. He helped Peggy to her seat just as the show was starting.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer boomed dramatically. “Tonight, we welcome you into our world of  _ wonder! _ Of  _ danger! _ Of  _ romance!” _ The crowd cheered.

“Our first act tonight is the sensual, the daring Antoinette Sanseverino! Watch her as she dances with the fire, even swallowing it! Let’s hope she doesn’t burn down the place and kill us all!” The emcee stepped off stage and the curtains pulled back to reveal a scantily clad woman on a darkened stage. She lit the torches around her and an oboe played a mystical melody. She danced and toyed with the flame. The performance nearly felt pornographic, like she and the fire were doing something the audience wasn’t supposed to see. Arthur glanced at Peggy; she seemed as enthralled with the woman as she was with the flame.

As Antoinette bowed and stepped off stage, Peggy wiggled her finger for him to lean over to her. “That was… hot, don’t you think?” He gasped at her. “Ma’am, are you referring to all of the fire? Or something else?” She looked away demurely. “What else could I be referring to, Arthur?”

“Our next act tonight Miss Robin Koninsky! Now, y’all might not believe it, but I found her on the roadside, singing her little heart out, and I just  _ knew  _ I had to have her. Give it up for the talented and beautiful Robin Koninsky!” The crowd applauded. The curtains opened again to reveal a blonde woman with a band. She began singing an upbeat number about how wonderful Saint Denis was. Peggy rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat. “What?” Arthur asked. “Not a fan of her or the city?” She smiled. “Saint Denis is only tolerable.” He laughed and patted her leg. When that sound ended, Robin said “Alright now y’all, let’s slow it down a bit. If you came here with your sweetie, feel free to stand up and give’er a twirl to this next number!” 

The band played a slow ¾ time and Robin began to sing:

_ I am dreaming Dear of you, day by day _

_ Dreaming when the skies are blue, when they're gray _

_ When the silv'ry moonlight gleams, still I wander on in dreams _

_ In a land of love, it seems, just with you _

_ Let me call you "Sweetheart", I'm in love with you _

_ Let me hear you whisper that you love me, too _

_ Keep the love-light glowing, in your eyes so true _

_ Let me call you "Sweetheart", I'm in love with you _

Arthur looked over at Peggy, whose face seemed red already. He held out his hand. “Dance with me, Peg?” She shook her head fervently. He grinned at her. “At least help me get my money’s worth of this suit.” She glowered for a moment, but rose to join him.

_ Longing for you all the while, more and more _

_ Longing for the sunny smile, I adore _

_ Birds are singing far and near, roses blooming everywhere _

_ You, alone, my heart can cheer, you just you _

Arthur put a hand around her waist and held the other close to him. She seemed embarrassed, but was especially so when a spotlight came down onto them. The crowd erupted in cheers and other couples followed their lead. She tried to hide her face in his chest which only brought them closer. He smiled and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. 

_ Let me call you "Sweetheart", I'm in love with you _

_ Let me hear you whisper that you love me, too _

_ Keep the love-light glowing, in your eyes so true _

_ Let me call you "Sweetheart", I'm in love with you _

_ Let me call you “Sweetheart”, I’m in love with you _ , Robin finished. The crowd applauded and Robin gestured to Arthur and Peggy from the stage. “Thank you, thank you! And thank you very much to this wonderful couple who broke the ice for us tonight! Your dress is beautiful!” Peggy thanked her meekly as she and Arthur parted to retake their seats. His body tingled where she had touched him and he reached out for her hand again as the next act took the stage. She gave it readily. This made him so happy, he neither cared nor noticed what the next act was.

The show ended and they left the theater. Peggy never dropped his hand and he wasn’t going to drop hers for anything. They stepped outside to find the heat of the day had given way to an evening storm. The water fell hard and fast from the darkened sky and glowed under the street lamps. The cobblestones reflected the light back, seeming to recreate the heavens here on earth. 

“What should we do?” asked Arthur. “Should we wait it out or run for it?” He could see the hotel from where he stood.

She narrowed her eyes and looked out onto the street. Without warning, she dropped his hand, hiked her skirts, and took off running, laughing all the way.

“I see how it is,” he called as he chased after her. 

His boots landed hard into the puddles, splashing his suit with mud. The rain hit his face as he ran, struggling to keep up with Peggy. He finally reached the awning of the hotel to see Peggy standing there, dripping wet and laughing like a fool. He couldn’t help but laugh himself. It had been too long since he had played in the rain, let himself enjoy life’s little mishaps.

They opened the door to a crowded bar. Plenty of eyes held judgement for their appearance, but they never stopped smiling. “Arthur!” came a familiar voice. He saw Trelawney sitting at the bar. “My boy, did you go for a swim in a suit? What the devil did you do? And Peggy! You look ravishing as ever. Saint Denis mud really makes your eyes shine.” he said, kissing her hand. 

Arthur laughed. “What can we do for you, Trelawney?”

“I came here to tell you your boat would be in sooner than anticipated. Be at the docks tomorrow morning and we can get you squared away.”

Arthur’s heart sunk. “Tomorrow? What happened to Tuesday?” 

Trelawney looked at him incredulously. “Surely you aren’t upset, Mr. Morgan.” 

He looked away quickly. “No, no, I’m not upset. I’ll go make sure our things are ready to go. We’ll be there at sunrise.” 

Trelawney called after him as he approached the stairs. “Won’t you have a drink with me before you go?”

Arthur shook his head. “We’re due for an early morning and it’s already late. I’ll see you in the morning.” Arthur ran up the stairs as he heard Trelawney tell Peggy goodnight.

_ Tomorrow? _ He thought.  _ We were just starting to make real progress. We can’t leave yet.  _ Peggy came in and closed the door behind her. 

“Well, playing city folk was fun for a little while, I suppose.” she sighed, kicking off her soggy boots. 

Arthur undid his tie. “Camp stew and bedrolls from here on out,” he grumbled back. 

She untied her bodice but struggled with moving the dress. 

“Did they cinch you in too tight?” he chuckled at her. 

She frowned. “That, and my hands are swollen. This thing ain’t moving. Will you...ugh,” she groaned to herself.

He walked over to her and helped her loosen the dress. “Damn… this… really ain’t budging.”

“Here,” she said, showing him what to do. “Put your hands here to open it up, and I’ll pull myself down.” 

He slid his hands down the top of her bodice and along her sides. He pulled his arms apart to make space for her. She wriggled down through the skirt and pulled her arms down and out. Arthur’s rough hands dragged along her body as she moved. He tried not to think about it. 

She crawled out from under the skirts and laughed up at Arthur. “I will be very glad to not be pregnant, I must say.” She stood and dusted off her slip. 

“I don’t know who you are when you’re not pregnant. What if you have the baby and you hate me?” he thought out loud. 

She rolled her eyes. “That was my grand plan; use and abuse you for 7 months, have the baby, and never speak to you again.” 

“Damn, I knew it,” he cursed as he kept undressing. 

They got into bed when they were undressed. Arthur snuffed the lantern and left them sitting in the dark. He laid down and pulled the covers up. He listened to Peggy rustle as he stared at the ceiling. He wished he knew what to say. Instead, she broke the silence.

“Tonight was fun,” she said, propped up on her elbow.

“I agree,” he said quietly. 

“Maybe next time, we can schedule more time to do dumb things.”

“Next time?” he asked, rolling toward her. 

“Well, maybe not in Saint Denis, but the next time we’re somewhere new.”

He nodded like he understood. “I see.”

Peggy reached her hand out and stroked his cheek. “Goodnight, Arthur. Thank you for a nice time.”

He closed his eyes and relished her touch, hoping it was dark enough to obscure his face. “Always, Peg.” 

She rolled onto her side again and quickly slept. He laid on his back again, hoping the ceiling had answers for him. Tomorrow night, he would be alone on his camp cot. She would go to her own camp. She would never know how he felt if he didn’t tell her.  _ Maybe after the baby is born _ , he thought.  _ I can’t be a priority for her right now.  _ He fell asleep thinking of her, with Robin’s tune dancing them in his dreams.

_ Let me call you “Sweetheart”, I’m in love with you _


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Peggy leave Saint Denis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hesitate to use trigger warnings for something absolutely and frequently included in the original game, but there is some gunfire/gunfighting in this chapter. Gore is implied, but not explicit. Take care of yourself. <3

Peggy awoke to Arthur rustling around in the dark. She sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes to see him tying his boots in the corner chair. “What are you doing awake?” she asked groggily. 

“Thought I might take a walk before we had to sit in the wagon all day.” he responded quietly.

“At this hour?” she asked, annoyed to be awake.

She couldn’t see him well, but she knew he was rolling his eyes. “It’s already almost 5.”

She groaned and plopped back into the bed. “Nope!” she cried. “No thanks. Not for me, not today.” 

He shrugged as he walked to the door. “Suit yourself.”

She laid there for a moment after he had closed it behind him. The quiet settled back in around her. She stretched across the bed and found… nothing. She was alone and the chill of the unoccupied sheets bit at her toes. There was no warm Arthur on the other side, precariously close but still cautiously away from her. She felt a pang in her chest and realized she missed him already.

_ Will things be different when we get back to West Elizabeth? _ She thought.  _ Or will we go back to our respective camps, our own cots and tents?  _ She wondered why she was concerned and what she wanted to happen. She closed her eyes and imagined the farm she was going to build. 

_ A little farmhouse, painted yellow. A giant kitchen so that she and her child could cook meals together. The kid’s bedroom would be bright and airy, with toys everywhere. Her own bedroom would have a real bed with a homemade quilt, warm and made with love. She would spend all day outside with her plants and animals, and then at suppertime, Arthur would-  _

She stopped herself. When she thought of her home, of her family, there he was, smiling and tossing the baby like it was born of his love instead of another’s.  _ Of his love. _ Her own phrasing made her stumble. Ben had loved her, she was certain. He told her so and she had the belly to prove it. But Arthur? Arthur was a harder nut to crack. He had spent hours and hours with her since her arrival, gazed at her with emotion clouding his eyes, took her hand as they walked, held her tight as they danced, but his tongue betrayed so little. He had flirted with her, sure, but that was also his sense of humor. They enjoyed trading barbs and exchanging wits. She couldn’t accuse him of flirting simply because he liked to tease. She sighed. They were  _ friends. _ Good ones, the best of them. He looked at her with kindness because he cared about her, danced with her because the song was playing. He was her best friend, the best she’d ever had and her only one in the wilderness, and she risked all of that by questioning it now.

Nevertheless, she questioned it. She thought about him, and their relationship, and her baby, and their future. Her chest ached in a way she hadn’t felt in months. She didn’t recognize the emotion. It had come on so gradually, she hadn’t noticed it consume her. It was sweet but  _ painful _ , a yearning that had no identifiable cause or relief. She rubbed her hand along her neck, as if trying to massage the feeling away. Her cheeks grew red as she puzzled through it. She felt full, but in a way that screamed for more, like she could burn on like this forever and never extinguish, never crumble into the ashes. 

Surely this was the fault of pregnancy hormones, a trick of light. She swore when Ben died that her love had been buried with him. What she felt for Arthur was different. Ben made her feel electric and powerful. Arthur made her feel strong and safe. Where Ben was playful and charismatic, Arthur was rough and solemn. His moments of softness were punctuated by a sense of sadness; Ben’s were as bright and airy as the summer sun. She and Arthur had built their relationship out of a deep grief and had become friends out of survival. She shook her head. This couldn’t be love, not as she had known it. 

Arthur opened the door and met her eyes. When she saw him, there was no question.  _ Love.  _ It was love that had slowly filled in the cracks and fissures that Ben had left behind, left her in. It was different, but it was there, built slowly and surely over the hardest 6 months of her life. She loved him, for all his density, toughness, and reserve. She loved him. She gasped at the realization.

He looked at her with surprise. “What’s wrong?” He closed the door behind him.

She shrugged. “Nothing, nothing, you just startled me.”

He eyed her warily but stepped into the room.

“As soon as you’re ready, we can get moving,” he said.

She still sat on the bed, the quilt huddled into a heap in her lap. “I suppose,” she groaned. 

She hastily got dressed and attempted to pull a comb through her hair. It got snarled almost immediately, so much so that she couldn’t budge it. “Ow, fuck  _ fuckfuckfuckfuck _ ,” she muttered, trying to break the knot. Arthur stepped behind her wordlessly, taking the comb out of her hand. “I swear,” she huffed. “I’m going to cut this all off and be done with it.” 

She saw him furrow his brow as she watched him in the mirror in front of her. “No,” was all he said. 

“What do you mean  _ no?  _ I hate these damn knots.”

He had untangled the comb from the knot and continued to run it through her hair. “Please don’t cut your hair,” he muttered.

She looked at him with astonishment. “Or  _ what?” _

“I will comb it everyday if I have to… just please… don’t cut it,” he murmured, rolling a curl across his fingers. 

She felt her stomach flip as they locked eyes in the mirror. Panic, upon other things, made her cheeks glow hot. She was well aware of how close he stood behind her and it was only a matter of time before the gravity of him pulled her in. “We should… we should go,” she said curtly, stepping around him. He nodded to himself, alone in the reflection now.

She double-checked under the bed and the fixtures for any detritus left behind, but found none. Arthur lugged their bag down the stairs. Peggy left the key on the bar. It was too late for the nightowls and too early for the day drinkers. It was quiet, still, and disturbingly empty. She shuddered as they passed through.

The sun was bright along the horizon, effacing the buildings in golden light and drawing their shadows down the streets. The reds, greens, purples, and yellows of the city shimmered in the dawn dew. She took a mental note, trying to commit to memory the way Saint Denis seemed to live in the light at all hours of the day. 

They approached the wagon. Arthur scampered up one side then leaned down for her on the other. He wrapped his arm around her waist as she climbed and hoisted her the rest of the way. Her chest tightened for him to hold her that close. She took her seat and smoothed her skirts after thanking him. He nodded quickly and urged the horses forward. They drove away into the sun.

Their hooves fell in rhythm on the stones as the pair rode in silence. Normally, Peggy was more than content to sit in silence with Arthur. They were fixtures in each other’s worlds and didn’t feel the desire to break a natural silence. But this time, her thoughts swam with her emotional discoveries. She could hardly look at him without noticing something new, like the way his collar bones peeked out of his shirt collar when he didn’t wear a bandana around his neck. She cursed herself for thinking like this. He was bound to notice soon if she wasn’t more careful. To risk losing him would be to risk her lifeline in her wild and uncertain existence.

Trelawney met them near the railroad station with a pallet of crates. “Heigh ho, Arthur,” he called as they approached. “Help me load these into your wagon.” Peggy moved to climb down the wagon, but Arthur grabbed her knee with a stern look. “Stay here. I’ll get it.” She opened her mouth in protest, but he gave her knee another quick squeeze and jumped down. She turned to watch them. Arthur’s arms looked strong as they flexed under his shirt as he handed boxes up into the wagon to Trelawney. 

“I’ll mourn your absence, Peggy,” Trelawney said as he worked. “You’ll have to write me, or better yet, come back to Saint Denis.” 

Peggy rolled her eyes and smiled. “I’m not sure how you’ll manage without me, sir.” 

He looked up at her, almost surprised that she was playing along. “You’re exactly right! Are you yet spoken for? Has Arthur finally made you honest?” 

Arthur nearly dropped the box he was holding, but recovered quickly.

“Are you intending to do so if he hasn’t?” she asked, her voice lilting.

He came to her side of the wagon and reached up his hands. “For you, dear Peggy, I would say whatever you needed to hear.”

Arthur rolled his eyes in disgust. “Ain’t you married, Josiah?”

Trelawney glared over his shoulder at him. “A man can dream, Morgan,” He shifted his eyes back to Peggy, softening his features. “And when he does, it’s of an angel like Margaret Hampton.” 

She smiled down but put her foot squarely into his chest, gently pushing him away. “You are too much, Mr. Trelawney.” 

Arthur had finished loading the wagon now. “Yes, you are too much, and with that, we bid you good riddance.” he said, laughing and tipping his hat to Trelawney. He frowned at them and reached for Peggy’s hand. “Goodbye, my dear. Be well.” She thanked him graciously and turned back in her seat. “Mr. Morgan, do let me know how you’re getting on with this horse feed. The store in Blackwater should have no idea that you’re not their intended contact.” 

Something clicked in Peggy’s mind. “Horse feed?” she asked cautiously. 

Trelawney nodded. “Some bloke out east is trying to expand his market, but oh, how easily intercepted these things can be.” 

Her heart was racing now. “What’s this bloke’s name?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter, personally, whom you’re robbing?”

“What’s his name, Trelawney?” Arthur interjected, anger in his voice. 

He checked some scrap of paper in his pocket. “An… Othie Hampton from Hampton Horse Feed. Why?”

The world spun and crashed down Peggy as she blacked out, tumbling off the wagon.

~~~~

Trelawney moved to catch her but certainly lacked Arthur’s strength. Arthur dove across the bench after her, breaking her fall a bit but not enough. 

“ _ Damn you, Trelawney! _ ” he growled, cradling Peggy’s head to his chest and pulling her shoulders into his lap. “Did the name  _ Hampton _ mean nothing to you?” 

Trelawney scoffed and sputtered. “How was I supposed to know the pregnant woman you were keeping in your room was secretly of old Kentucky money?” 

Arthur felt rage nearly spill out of him through his fists, pulverizing Trelawney’s smug mustache under worn and calloused knuckles. He imagined the blood spraying from his nose as repayment for being so unwittingly, unthinkingly cruel to Peggy. His vision had gone red. All he could see was Trelawney getting what he deserved. The only thing that saved him from this fate was Peggy stirring in his arms. She moaned quietly and blinked up at him. Just as quickly as it had come on, the rage dissipated when she pulled herself up with his shoulder, bringing him closer. 

“Peg, are you doin’ okay?” he asked with quiet urgency. 

She didn’t answer him but looked to Trelawney. “The horse feed is Daddy’s?” she asked weakly. 

Trelawney swallowed. “Peggy… I had no idea.”

The rage began to bubble over again, so he picked Peggy up and stood. She sat in his arms, her eyes glazed with grief and confusion. “I suppose that explains why Henry was in town…” 

He pulled her tighter instinctively. “We’re leaving, Trelawney.”

The other man nodded quietly, finally shut up. 

Arthur helped Peggy back into the wagon, boarded himself, then sent the horses on their way to Blackwater. 

The streets of Saint Denis faded away to farms and fields. Arthur said nothing and neither did she. When he would glance over to her, she was staring straight ahead with her arms folded across her pregnant belly, still and cold as a marble statue. She blinked with her breath, slow and labored. He felt sick, wondering and fearing what was going through her head. 

“Peggy… I’m so sorry,” he said eventually.

She didn’t move.

“I would have never taken the job if I had known…” he continued. 

She swallowed. 

He looked back to the road. “You deserve better than this, Peg.” 

A single tear rolled down her cheek. 

Arthur heard urgent hoofbeats behind them and he turned to see who was coming. A man atop a roan mare was bolting up to his side of the wagon. “Stop this wagon  _ immediately! _ ” He cried. Peggy’s eyes darted between the man and Arthur with fear taking over the grief that had held them.

“What seems to be the problem here, sir?” Arthur asked without slowing the wagon.

“You know damn well what the problem here is. That there is Hampton Horse Feed, and that don’t belong to you!” The man looked between Arthur and Peggy. Everyone seemed to make the same connection at the same moment.

“ _ Maggie?” “Henry?”  _ They exclaimed together. 

Arthur panicked, reaching for his gun. “Now, now, I’m sure there’s a reasonable answer to how this mishap could happen. Don’t you agree, Mr. Grant?” He drew the weapon, pointing it at Henry as they rode along.

“Stop this wagon this  _ instant!” _ Henry screamed, reaching for his own gun. 

Arthur tossed the reins to Peggy. “Now, Henry,” he said patronizingly. “It might be in your best interest to run home to Lexington and tell Mr. Hampton you lost the order while you’re still breathing.” 

“You bastard,” Henry exclaimed. “Do you think fucking Peggy gives you the right to steal from a respectable family? Mr. Hampton will hear about this.” 

Arthur felt the rage growing again. “Speak of her again and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Henry said nothing. He fired his gun at Arthur, its bullet finding soft flesh. The blow of it sent Arthur off the wagon and diving into the red Lemoyne clay.

His head spun with adrenaline from the gunshot and the fall. Colors swam in front of him and the conversation around him sounded distant. He watched with blurry eyes as the wagon came to a stop. “Give me the feed, Mag,” he heard Henry call. 

“ _ You shot Arthur,”  _ Peggy said, her voice eerily calm.

“Oh, did I kill your boyfriend?” he taunted. “You’re quite the black widow, Ms. Hampton, like a kiss of death. But you did more than kiss to get that belly, didn’t you?”

“ _ You shot Arthur,” _ she repeated. 

“Yeah, and I’ll shoot you too if you don’t get off this wagon. I do not have time for pregnant whores nor the men who indulge them.” 

He heard her scream and another gunshot exploded through the air. He fought like hell to come back to his senses, but his equilibrium was still uneasy. He felt hands frisking his body until they found the source of the blood. He winced and came back to life as his wound was aggravated, bolting straight up from where he had fallen. When his eyes came back into focus, he saw Peggy kneeling beside him, her face wet with tears and hands covered in blood. 

“Oh god, Peg, what happened to you?” He asked weakly. He searched her for an injury but couldn’t find one. “Are you bleeding? Are you hurt? What happened?”

Her dark eyes stared incredulously at him. “You’re the one that got shot!” 

He reached for his arm and winced. The bullet had lodged itself into his bicep, but not very deeply. He groaned. “I’ve had worse.” 

He looked beyond Peggy to see Henry’s body laying limp in the road. “...Peggy…” he started cautiously. “What did you do?”

She held his face in her hands and pressed her forehead to his, her tears dripping down onto his face. “I thought he killed you.” 

“Is he dead?” he asked.

She nodded. 

He fumbled to his feet. “Then we need to leave. Right now.” 

She put her hands under his arms and helped him stand. His head was still spinning and his arm hurt like hell, but they had to act fast before someone spotted them with the body. He took a closer at Henry’s body. His head had been blown to bits and pieces of his skull were scattered across the road. He glanced nervously at Peggy. “We have two options here. We can take Henry with us, throw him in the swamp. Or we can leave him here.” Her dark eyes steeled. “Leave him here to rot. He is no longer my concern.” 

She helped him back to the wagon. Neither one of them was capable of helping the other climb the wagon so they made slow progress up their respective sides. His arm was slowly oozing by the time he managed to reach the bench. It would need a tourniquet. He handed the reins to Peggy again. “Follow this road here until I tell you to turn. I need to wrap my arm up.” He bit his shirt to pull a bandage-width strip of it off. She eyed him as he drove. “Are you going to be okay?”

He scoffed and tied it. “Of course. I’ll pop this bullet out then burn it like I did your leg.” 

She winced as she remembered then caught his eye again. He still saw real concern in them.

“Awh Peg, It’ll be okay. Really.”

She began to sob again. He patted her knee. “Oh, Peggy girl, I will be fine.” 

“I thought I’d lost you.” she said slowly, emotion choking her. “I saw you fall off the wagon and I was right back in the barn, watching the life fade from Ben’s eyes. I couldn’t do it. Not again.”

His heart broke when he remembered what him getting hurt must have felt like to her. He had no idea what to say to make her feel better. When he heard her compare him to Ben, he selfishly thought, if only for a moment, that she might love him like Ben. Like he loved her. He reached out for her hand and she gave it to him. He squeezed it lightly and stroked her palm with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. But I’ll be okay. Just get us home so I can get this cleaned up.” She squeezed his hand back and swallowed, but carried on.

~~ 

The scenery was changing around them as they drove. The lush green marshes outside Saint Denis were fading into rolling emerald fields. Peggy would miss the greenery when they crossed back into West Elizabeth. It reminded her of home. She winced to think of Kentucky, the tall bluegrass whistling in a field of horses. She thought of her parents and the shipment of horse feed she had unknowingly stolen from them. She thought about the life she took and how little remorse she felt for doing so. She would have killed him again if she had to. She had so little left in this life and Arthur was one of the best parts. She would not lose another love without laying everything on the line for it.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. 

“Daddy,” she said without looking away from the road. “And Henry.”

“You never forget the first life you take.” he said. “It’s understandable to be upset.”

She shot him a look. “I’m not upset. I don’t regret it. I’d shoot him a thousand times before I let something happen to you.” 

His eyes widened at her intensity. 

She felt tears threaten to overflow again, accompanied by the rage she felt when thinking about Henry. 

He scoffed, trying to lighten her mood. “I can assure you, I’m not worth all that.”

A tear escaped. “I won’t hear it, Arthur. You are to me.” She turned back to the road. 

The sun set on them quickly as the drive lingered on. They were close to camp now, Peggy recognized the terrain, but they still had a long way to go. Arthur had been drifting in and out of consciousness, but he assured her he was only napping. The anxiety ate at her and she urged the horses to go faster. 

She eventually turned onto the worn dirt path that led back to the gang’s camp. “Who’s there?” John called. “It’s Peggy and Arthur,” she called in response. 

“Back with a load of goodies, hmm?” 

“He’s been shot,” she said urgently. “We need help.” 

Suddenly, the camp had huddled around them, helping him off the wagon and hurling questions at Peggy. 

Mrs. Grimshaw pushed through the crowd to give her orders. “Charles, Bill, get Arthur back to his tent. Javier, get me hot water and clean rags. Peggy, walk with me and tell me how this happened.”

Peggy’s chest tightened. Grimshaw had never been particularly warm to her. Telling her what happened to Arthur felt like admitting to her mother that  _ she _ had broken the vase, not the cat.

“Trelawney’s information was… lacking, to say the least. The people we stole the shipment from ended up being my family. An old suitor of mine was in town to receive it. He didn’t take kindly to being robbed, and when Arthur pulled a gun, he shot first.”

Grimshaw’s eyes burned. “And what happened to this suitor, Ms. Hampton?”

“I grabbed Arthur’s gun and blew his goddamn head away.” Peggy said through gritted teeth.

Susan nodded and went back to her work. Arthur was right; the bullet wasn’t too deep in his arm, but it still looked painful as all hell to remove. The men plied him up with whiskey as Susan went on a digging expedition in his bicep. It pained her to see him writhe like that, but nothing like the momentary despair she had felt when she thought he was dead. Susan stood up, a small bullet, dripping with blood, pinched between her fingers. “Here’s the troublemaker.” She washed her hands in the bucket Javier brought, then walked to the fire to grab the iron. Arthur looked at Peggy. “Here comes the best part,” he groaned out. She grabbed his hand. He squeezed it with such a force that she knew he must be miserable. 

Susan pressed the hot iron into his arm without hesitation. He groaned under the pressure, pulling his arm away while Susan held his shoulder down. Peggy’s heart broke as he pressed his face into her legs in an effort to hide his pained expression. She stroked his hair as Susan pulled out a needle and thread to sew him up. He moaned loudly into her thigh, reaching his arm around her back and pulling her closer. “Shh,” she quieted him. “It’s almost over, honey. Almost over.” Susan cut the thread and looked up at Peggy. “Stay with him tonight and make sure he doesn’t get a fever. If he can go a few days without a fever, I’d say he’ll be fine.” Peggy nodded obediently. 

She lifted his head enough to slide her legs between him and the cot, laying his sweat-sodden head in her lap. She stroked his hair lightly and smiled down at him. He fluttered his eyes at her before nodding off to sleep. She leaned against the wagon behind her, content to sleep sitting up if it meant keeping him comfortable. He was safe and that’s all that mattered in the world to her, besides her baby. At that moment, she felt as if her lap contained the universe. She drifted to sleep with her hands tangled in Arthur’s sandy brown hair, his head beside her pregnant belly. 

  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy reads a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I hope you enjoy!

“Oh boy,” said Hosea, holding his morning coffee.

Dutch followed Hosea’s eyes to Arthur’s tent. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“She’s a firebrand, that Peggy,” he said, taking a sip.

Dutch put a hand on his hip. “Arthur’s losing focus.”

“He’s in love, Dutch.”

He narrowed his gaze. “She’s using him for protection.”

Hosea shook his head. “You don’t think she loves him?”

“I think she loves that baby and that baby’s daddy, and she’s doing what she can to make Arthur take care of it.”

He shrugged. “Arthur has wanted to be a father since he lost Eliza and Isaac.” 

Dutch scoffed. “He can’t be a father to someone else’s baby.” 

Hosea stared at him. “And who are you to say that? If parenthood is biology, then why do you call Arthur son?”

His dark eyebrows furrowed. “We are a _family._ _We,_ you, and me, all of his brothers, are his family, not some southern trollop with a baby on the way.” 

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Hosea warned. 

“Don’t question me here, Hosea,” Dutch glanced out of the corner of his eye. “I guarantee you that before that baby comes, Arthur comes to his senses.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Isn’t that nice, John?” Abigail asked dreamily, staring across the camp to Arthur’s tent. “Arthur finally found himself someone.”

John glanced up from his breakfast. “I guess… I didn’t think they were a couple.”

She smacked his arm. “Don’t you see how she’s holding his head? While they’re asleep? They’re in love. They have to be.”

“Grimshaw has nursed me plenty. Does that make us lovers?”

She shook her head at his impertinence. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, John Marston.” She smiled to herself again. “Jack will have a cousin… a playmate. He should really be around more children his age.”

John glared at her. “Don’t you start on this  _ having more kids _ bullshit.”

She  _ hmphed _ back into her cot, pining away silently for another child.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mary-Beth held her knees to her chest and stared out into nothingness. The camp was abuzz with it, with  _ them _ , with  _ her. _ Her heart felt heavy and empty in the same instant. She had watched him as he silently tortured himself over his past, the loves he had lost along the way. She thought his heart was impenetrable after all that, but as she watched him, she knew. It wasn’t impenetrable, just not for her to have. She thought about the light that would occasionally catch his eye, making him breezy and fun as he poked at her playfully. She frowned, realizing she saw that same light within him whenever someone mentioned Peggy. 

“What’s got you all screwed up?” Karen asked, swaggering over to her.

Mary-Beth sighed. “Look at them.”

Karen laughed. “I know! Ain’t they cute, fittin’ together like little puzzle pieces like that?” Mary-Beth’s frown deepened and Karen shrugged. “You didn’t really think Arthur was going to wake up one day and fall in love with you? Did you?” 

Mary-Beth glanced away. “I suppose not.”

“This ain’t a love story you’d read out of a book, Mary-Beth. Or if it was, no one told Arthur. He’s found a love story of his own.” 

Her stomach sank. “Did you come over here to be mean to me, Karen?”

She shrugged again. “Just wanted to confirm my suspicions about what had you looking like a kicked puppy.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peggy stirred but found herself immobilized under the weight of Arthur’s sleeping head. His breathing caught as she moved but he didn’t wake. She carefully lifted him and shimmied out from under him. She moved so methodically that by the time she had wiggled herself out, she stumbled away from the cot and into the middle of camp. She was acutely aware that every waking eye had darted to her sudden movement, but most had been watching and whispering all morning. She and Arthur had never spent the night together like that before, especially in his camp, and the gossip was already flying around. 

She collected herself as much as she could and walked over to the campfire for a cup of coffee. Charles was there, pouring himself a cup. He nodded silently as she approached. She returned it. He gestured for her mug without words. She handed it to him and he filled it for her. She took it back and held it to her face, smiling in appreciation. He nodded again.

They stood there together, silently sipping coffee for several heavy moments. She wanted to say something to this enigma of a man, this pillar of stone and muscle, but no words would form. She looked him over, careful to avoid his gaze. Without warning or hesitation, he looked her directly in the eye. Her heart stopped as he seemed to stare through her. 

“We should take that horse feed into town. It’s not making us any money sitting in the back of the wagon.” he said, matter-of-factly.

She swallowed and nodded. 

“Arthur should rest. I’ll go with you if you want.” 

She nodded again. “Oh, uh… alright. Thank you,” she stuttered out.

He swallowed the last sip of his coffee and sat down the tin cup. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m ready too, I suppose.” 

He said nothing else and walked to the wagon. She followed.

Her stomach flipped when she remembered that she could hardly climb the wagon without Arthur’s help. She’d be damned if she had to ask Charles for help. She had already mentally prepared for a running jump up the side, but Charles kneeled on her side on the wagon, his hands on his knee ready to hoist her up. She blinked in confusion but accepted the help. He lifted her gracefully and wordlessly then climbed his side. Peggy was surprised at the ease of their silence but was enjoying it nonetheless.

West Elizabeth was cooler than Saint Denis in June, but only because the humidity wasn’t as oppressive. The sun was barely above the horizon, but already the air was warm and thick. The sky was overcast in a thick layer of heavy gray clouds, making the morning feel darker than it was. The horses trudged along as Charles drove them to Blackwater. He seemed to feel Peggy’s eyes on him as he drove and he glanced over to her. “So, you and Arthur?” he asked quietly.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Arthur and I what?”

Charles shrugged. “It seems like you’re happy together. That’s all.”

She blushed. “We’re… it’s… it’s not what you think,” she said haltingly. 

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, slight amusement twinkling in them. “And what do I think it is?” 

“We’re not a couple, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” she said, her embarrassment making her words tight and sharp. “We’re not… romantic, he doesn’t…” she trailed off rather than speak into existence that he didn’t love her.

Charles urged the horses forward without looking at her. “Did he tell you that?”

Peggy felt her defenses rise. “No, but… he doesn’t.” 

“All I’m saying is that I’ve never seen him like this. I haven’t known him long, but the point stands.” 

Peggy’s thoughts swam as they pulled into town. She was so distracted by Charles’ observation that she had almost forgotten that they were about to sell the goods she stole from her father and Henry. She felt a whole new kind of sick at the realization. “They won’t take too kindly to buying stolen horse food from a Black man, so you might have to do the talking. I’ll help you unload though.” He said as he helped her off the wagon, again, without prompting. She nodded back. “I’ll sell it like my name is on it,” she muttered. 

They opened the doors to the stable, Charles carrying a box behind her. She knew what she would have to do and the southern lady she had fought so hard to reject came ripping to the surface. “My dear, we meet again!” she called to the stable boy. He spun and glared when he recognized her. “Now, now, there’s no need for venom. I come bearing gifts.” She said in response. 

“What chu want?” he spat at her.

“I want you to give Blackwater’s horses the very best with Hampton’s horse feed. Charles, show him, honey,” she commanded with a flick of the wrist. 

Charles cracked open the crate to reveal the fragrant grain. The boy looked skeptical. 

Peggy ran her hands through it and let the pellets fall between her fingers. “This here is pure Kentucky gold. This is the feed of Derby champions, workhorses, and pasture ornaments alike. It’s the perfect blend of grain, oats, and vitamins for a beautiful horse who can outpace and outwork every other pony in the field.” She grinned confidently. 

The stable boy frowned and turned to walk away. “We already have a supplier.”

She grabbed his arm and leaned her hips toward him. “But my dear, no other feed can touch the quality of Hampton’s.” She batted her eyes and he smiled slightly. 

“I… I dunno if I can make this kinda choice on my own.” he stuttered, caught off guard by her charm.

Her smile was blinding as she focused on making the kill. “No stable manager would be upset to see they had secured Hampton’s as their supplier, especially to be the first stable west of the Lannahechee to do so.” 

“How much?” the boy asked, intoxicated with Peggy’s performance.

She toyed with his collar after she released him arm. “$20 a crate.” she cooed.

He seemed taken aback. “That’s double what we pay now!”

She glanced up at him coyly and grazed his chin with her fingertips. “For double the quality… whaddya say?” 

He gulped and nodded. She flashed her teeth in something that was supposed to resemble a smile. “Fantastic,” she whispered. “Charles, be a lamb and unload the wagon. I’ll settle up with our friend here.” 

Charles brought in the boxes while the stable boy counted the money. 15 crates meant $300 of crisp bills in her hand. She stared at the money, remembering who the intended recipient was. She thought of Henry’s body, headless and cooling on the side of a Lemoyne backroad. She thought of her father, the last phrases they had spit at each other. She closed her fist around the money and smiled back at the stable boy. “Thanks so much, sweetheart. I’ll check in later to see how you’re doing with it and get you your next order.” He smiled and waved her goodbye, his eyes absent and glazed with the spell she had cast. 

She met Charles at the wagon. He was there, waiting to help her up again. She accepted it without question. He joined her on the bench and began to drive. When they were far enough out of town, he reached into his pocket and revealed an envelope. “I found this wedged into one of the crates. It was addressed to Henry. I thought you might want to read it.” She snatched it out of his hand unthinkingly and grew immediately embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, I got excited. I would like to read it, thank you.” She read Henry’s name in an elegant script across the front and recognized the hand. She swallowed hard and opened it.

_ Henry, _

_ I hope your journey west has been a pleasant one and I hope this feed makes it with the same ease. Please write when you receive this so I might know what happened to the both of you.  _

_ I know it seems far-fetched and ridiculous, but if you should see Margaret, please tell her to come home. Or at least write. Her mother made a rash and violent decision that we all must now suffer from, but after her mother’s death in April, I miss my darling girl more than ever. Do what you must to bring her home. _

_ Stay safe in your travels, _

_ Othie Hampton _

Peggy hadn’t noticed the tears that had fallen down her cheeks until one plopped onto the page, smearing the ink. Her father wanted her home. Her mother was dead. It was too much to wrap her head around, and her thoughts were screaming in her ears. “Are you okay, Peggy?” Charles asked softly. She nodded but gave no other response. She wanted Arthur,  _ needed Arthur _ , more than ever in that moment. She would just have to hold it together until she saw him. 

~~

The cloud cover helped Arthur sleep much longer than he anticipated. He opened his eyes, heavy and gritty with sleep. He looked up, expecting to see Peggy, but she was gone. He glanced around for her, growing more and more frantic when he couldn’t find her. Worry overtook his chest. She had been through so much yesterday. He should have never left her alone. He tried to sit up too quickly and the injury in his arm seared with pain. He groaned. 

“Easy there, killer. You took a bullet yesterday,” came Mary-Beth’s soft and sweet voice. 

He searched her face for signs of concern. “Where’s Peggy?” he asked urgently.

Her smile faltered, but only for a moment. “She went to town with Charles to sell the feed y’all got.”

He felt the anxiety in his chest deflate and he laid back down.

“Can I change this bandage for you?” she asked quietly.

He nodded and unbuttoned his shirt enough to pull his arm out of the sleeve. He saw her eyes linger on his bare chest then tear themselves away. 

“What a story to tell,” Mary-Beth mused as she unrolled the old bandage from his arm. 

“It’s always something with that woman,” Arthur mumbled.

She smiled sadly at him and met his eye. “She seems… very kind.”

He nodded back.

“Are you excited about the baby?”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “I mean, it’s not mine, Mary-Beth.”

She shrugged and kept her eyes on his wound as she blotted it with warm water. “I know you’re not the  _ real _ daddy, but the baby won’t know the difference. He’ll only know you as the man who loves him and his mommy. That’s a daddy if I’ve ever seen one.” 

“I, uh….” he stuttered. “We’re aren’t  _ together _ … she doesn't…” 

She frowned at him. “She doesn’t what, Arthur?  _ Love you? _ ” 

He only responded through confused blinking. 

Mary-Beth smacked his leg. “You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan, but you’re not that dense. If there were ever two people who loved each other, it’s you and Peggy.”

He shook his head. “You read too many novels, Ms. Gaskill.”

She raised her eyebrows defiantly. “Do you not love her, then?”

His jaw hung slack and he couldn’t form a response. 

“Then why do you think it’s so preposterous that she would love you too?”

He sat silent.

She finished wrapping his arm and walked away. “Get over yourself and tell her you love her.”

He sat on the edge of his cot, stunned at Mary-Beth’s bluntness. He had never seen that side of her. Maybe it was jealousy, or maybe it was her fervent belief in love that sparked a fire in her eyes. She wanted love to exist, to flourish, so badly that she would rather Arthur love someone else than no one at all. 

He looked across camp to see Charles and Peggy riding in on the wagon. His stomach flipped when he saw her. Charles helped her down and he felt a pang of jealousy that was soothed almost immediately when she bolted towards his tent. Charles lagged behind but followed her.

“How’d you get on?” he called to her as she ran.

She didn’t answer but threw her arms around him. He held her in return but shot a look of concern to Charles over her shoulder. 

“I found a letter in one of the boxes. She hasn’t spoken since she read it. She sold the feed for $300 though. It was a performance Trelawney and Hosea could only dream of.” he said as he walked by.

Arthur rubbed her back as she climbed into his lap. “What happened, Peg?” he asked quietly into her ear. 

She wordlessly shoved a crumbled letter into his chest, the force of it lightly straining his injury.

He opened it, resting his wrists on her hips. He read it two or three times before he felt he comprehended it. Her father wanted her to come home  _ because _ her mother had died. No wonder she hadn’t spoken. Her father wanted her to come home. All of her anxieties about having a baby in the wild could be soothed after a few days on a train. This would all be nothing more than a bad dream. She could leave West Elizabeth. She could leave him.

His palms pressed into her back as he held her closer. “Oh, honey…” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.” The sobs she had been holding back ripped through her chest. He could do nothing but hold her as she cried. Tears almost welled in his own eyes as he selfishly considered her decision. She could leave him. She didn’t need him anymore. 

She eventually quieted and pulled back to look at him. The redness in her face made the light in her eyes seem brighter, shinier under the tears. He lifted his hand to wipe her face. “That’s a lot to learn, Peg. I’m sorry.” 

She drew a ragged breath and wiped her own nose on the back of her hand. “I don’t know what to do. The  _ nerve _ of that man to drive me to the train station but act like it was all Mother’s fault. And of course, my mother dies as soon as I leave home. If the grief of losing me killed her, all she had to do was let me stay.” 

He nodded. “It’s a lot to think about, but nothing you have to decide right this second.” 

She climbed off of him and sat on the cot beside him. She leaned her head against his arm and the weight of it pressed into the gunshot. He winced and held his breath, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She glanced up with concern then realized her mistake. She sat up and reached for his hand instead. He held hers with both hands and placed them in his lap. 

They sat like that for several moments. Arthur considered what life would look like when she left. Things would go back to normal, or whatever normal looked like before Peggy. He would rob and kill and con with little thought for what he was doing or who he was doing it to. He would blindly chase a dollar again, with no home nor anyone to come home to. He heard Mary-Beth’s voice in his mind.  _ Get over yourself and tell her you love her. _ Would that be enough to convince her to stay when her family was calling her home? Back to her life of breakfasts in bed and dressing maids, back to her barn and her thoroughbred? He winced, knowing nothing he could offer her would ever compare to the life she was being welcomed back into. His life wasn’t enough for Mary and it wouldn’t be enough for Peggy if she had a choice. Her baby would be safe and healthy away from tents and outlaws. The longer he considered the more he realized that this wasn’t much of a question at all; she would go home. She should go home. 

“What are you gonna do, Peg?” he mumbled.

She sighed and stared out into the distance. “I haven’t let myself miss my family or Kentucky in so long. I thought there was no way I was going back.”

“But now there is?” he asked quietly.

She shrugged. “Daddy invited me home. I never thought I’d be welcome again.” 

He pressed his lips thin. “So you want to go home?”

She met his eyes. “Do you think I should?”

He looked away from her. “It’s probably your best option.” he grumbled.

He felt her hand stiffen in his, as if trying to recoil from him. She said there, silent and still, for a long time. The silence weighed heavily on him and he wished he had the words to tell her all the reasons why she should stay. He had none. He knew he couldn’t ask her to give up the life she had to live on the run with him. 

She withdrew her hand and patted his thigh. “Maybe I will then,” she said, rising from the cot. She walked away from him, her arms folded and resting on her belly. His heart broke into a million pieces as she went, seeming to crack in anticipation of her leaving him for the last time. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy prepares to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! ;)

Her heart splintered and cracked as he stared away from her. “It’s probably your best option,” he mumbled without the courage to meet her eyes. Did he want her to leave? She thought about his life before she showed up. He was free to rob and carry on however he pleased, no responsibilities or extra mouths to feed. The kindness he had shown her since her arrival did not mean he planned on continuing to take care of her. She imagined the relief he must feel that someone else was stepping up to claim the bastard baby in her growing belly. He would be free. She could absolve him of her sins, release him out into his own world. She would go back to hers. Of course he wanted her to go. “Maybe I will then,” she said, releasing his hands and standing. She felt his eyes follow her but she did not dare turn back. 

She walked aimlessly until she came to the edge of the lake then she followed the water toward her old campsite. The sky seemed almost empty without the plume of smoke from her campfire. It had been burning on end for months, a blazing reminder of the fierce independence she sought to maintain in the wilderness. It had petered out when she left for Saint Denis, much like the distance she had kept from Arthur. The connection they had been fostering over the past few months had turned into something powerful and deep like a river after the storm. They flowed together seamlessly and effortlessly. He had become home, no matter where they rested their heads. As long as she was with him, she was safe.

She thought about home, about Kentucky. Her father’s letter didn’t specify much about her mother’s death, but it was clear she was dead. She thought of her crying on the porch as they drove away and tried to freeze that moment forever in her mind. She had always known that would be the last time she would see her mother, but she took comfort in knowing that she would continue to exist away from Peggy. Knowing that she was gone for good soured her stomach. She would always be angry that her mother threw her out when she needed her most, but now? Now she would never have the closure she fantasized about. She would march up the porch steps, a self-made woman of dignity and wealth, a child holding her hand. She would proudly announce that she had done just fine without them but she was ready to forgive them should they come to their senses. But her father had beat her to it by inviting her home and her mother quit the game altogether. She would return like a scalded dog, her adventure out west ended by her father bringing her to her senses.

The person she left behind in Louisville was nowhere close who she had become out here with Arthur. There was no one to chastise her for her language or insist wearing breeches was impolite. Arthur took her for all that she was and everything she wasn’t. Should she give that up for the creature comforts of her upbringing? Would she trade roasting her own rabbit over a campfire to have Hill bring her breakfast in bed? Could she raise her baby away from the one man who had shown his unwavering support for both of their lives? She sighed as her walk led her to the campsite.

The firepit was still there, but everything else was quickly fading into the earth. The post holes of her tent were filling in with dirt and debris. Rain had washed away her footprints and the soft patches of ground that her trunks had protected from the sun had already baked and been made indistinguishable from the rest of the dirt. Soon, it would be like she was never there at all. The earth would revert back to its own ways and move on and away from her. The world of West Elizabeth would continue to spin without her. Her heart broke at the thought of Arthur going along like she had never existed, as if their time together was a strange dream he had woken up from and forgotten by the time he finished his coffee.  _ It’s probably your best option _ , he had said. He was the rain-washed, sun-baked dirt; ready to forget she had ever arrived in the first place. 

She felt the baby kick and knew it was time to stop her game of cowboys. She would never survive out here alone with a child, and Arthur took the first opportunity to send her home. It was the responsible decision, the adult one, to go back to Kentucky where she could ensure that her child would have food and a roof over their head. She came out west with the determination that she would do best by her baby. Now, with the option to return home, she could not waste an instant. Her time was not her own; her belly reminded her every day. She would do what she had to and throw her own feelings to the wind.

~~~

Arthur’s heart broke as she walked away from him, her body folded across itself in the hug he wished he could give her. His own words replayed back to him,  _ It’s probably your best option _ . He could hear the pain in her voice and knew she had misunderstood him. There wasn’t a bone in his body that wanted her to leave. He felt as if his chest might cave in at the very thought of it. He had said that with the knowledge that going back to Kentucky was assuredly the safest place for her and her baby. He could never compete with her father’s money, house, and connections. As long as he lived with a price on his head, he could never keep her safe. She had an opportunity to get her life back on track, and no matter how much it devastated him to let her go, he knew he had to. If his love could do nothing else for her, let it save her from him and his life. 

He was staring at his hands when she walked back into camp. A lifetime of work and debauchery had left him scarred. His life had been as rough as his weather-worn skin. This wasn’t what he wanted for Peggy and her baby. His chest panged again with the thought of the pregnancy. He had been  _ so close _ to rectifying his mistakes with Eliza and Isaac. He would be there for Peggy. He would never let something happen to them. But, he thought, maybe he was doing right by them by keeping them away from him. Peggy’s baby would always be his in some sad sort of way and his only act as father would be to stay away.

She walked over to his tent, her arms still folded. He searched her face for any clue of her thoughts. She smiled, but her eyes were unspeakably sad. He knew then that she had come to the same conclusion he had. He nodded quietly and she sat beside him. “I think I have to go,” she said, her voice barely audible. 

He frowned and swallowed the tears. “I think you do too.” 

She stared at the ground in front of her, her body distinctly away from his. She may have not left physically, but he could see it in her eyes that she was already a thousand miles away. “Will you stay one more night? At least?” he asked placidly. “I promise I’ll take you to the station in the morning if you just… stay.”

Her dark eyes bolted to his and confusion lined her face. “I suppose I can.” 

He nodded and smiled a bit. “Good.”

He rose from the cot and walked to Pearson’s wagon. “Mr. Pearson,” he called. His bald head poked out from under the butcher table in response. “Tonight is Ms. Hampton’s last night with us before she heads home to Kentucky. Do you think we could have a nice meal to send her off?” Dutch seemed to appear out of nowhere. “What do you mean she’s leaving?” he asked incredulously. 

Arthur frowned. “Her father invited her back home. She’s leaving in the morning for Kentucky.”

Dutch’s face filled with an unreadable mix of emotion. “Well, that’s just… that’s… Good for Peggy!” 

Arthur smacked his lips. “If you say so.” 

Dutch clapped his shoulder. “Oh, son… it’ll be okay. Things can go back to normal. You don’t have to step up like that anymore. I knew you would take responsibility. I raised you right, but this? This ain’t your problem.” 

Arthur pursed his lips into a thin line. “Sure, Dutch.” 

Pearson watched them nervously as the tension in Arthur’s body grew more apparent. “I can fix something better than usual, sure,” he chuckled. 

Arthur nodded and walked away. 

Abigail jogged over to him as he went. “Oh Arthur, say it ain’t true!” 

He eyed her warily and did not break stride. “What’s wrong?” 

She scoffed at his ignorance. “Peggy’s leaving?” 

He sucked his tongue. “Yes,” was all he could manage to say. 

“But you can’t let her go, can you?” she whined, pulling at his arm. “Don’t you-”

He snapped to face her. “Don’t I what, Abigail?” 

Her eyes faltered. “Don’t you… love her?” she whispered.

He blinked, slow and sad. “Sometimes the only way you can love someone is to let them go. Isn’t that right?” 

She frowned, obviously catching his allusion to John leaving after Jack was born, and walked away. 

The day seemed to fly by around them. Sean went into town to get alcohol for the party and Peggy had been milling around camp, answering questions about the luxurious life she was about to return to. He wasn’t sure if she was avoiding him, but whenever they would meet eyes, she looked pained and averted her gaze. It was just as well. Tomorrow, he couldn’t look to those dark eyes for reassurance. They would be speeding east across the countryside to a better life.

The sun was setting now and Arthur found Peggy sitting on the edge of the lake. “Pearson almost has dinner ready. I wouldn’t want you to miss your going away party.” He mumbled as he sat down beside her. She hummed in response. The bugs and birds were chirping and singing in full force just as the darkness was swallowing the world. It was peaceful and the sound gave him something to listen to other than the breaking of his heart. “Things are gonna be better, ya know?” he said. 

She leaned back on her hands, arching her back and letting her belly crest into the air. “That’s what they keep telling me.” 

“You’ll be back to feather beds and fancy breakfasts in no time.”

She turned to look at him. “Is that what life’s about? Beds and breakfasts?”

He shrugged.

“Because that’s not your life, and you seem to be doing okay.”

He rolled his eyes. “My life is far from okay. There’s a difference in living and surviving.” 

She watched him intently. “Do you think  _ we’re _ living? Or surviving?” 

He swallowed and looked out at the lake. If he kept his eyes on her, he might say more than he’d like. “I think… you’ll be more likely to live in Kentucky.”

She nodded and turned back to face the water. 

Several moments passed before he moved to stand. “C’mon, Peg. Let’s get you to your party,” he said, reaching down to offer his hand. She took it and genuinely pulled against him as she hoisted herself up. She stumbled into him as the momentum carried her up. She smiled sheepishly and adjusted his shirt collar, then they walked together back into camp.

“Here she comes, the lady of the hour!” Dutch called as they approached. The camp hollered and squealed, the sounds making it obvious that most of the occupants had already hit the liquor. Javier began to sing and play guitar and soon the camp was making merry to beat the band. Arthur looked over at Peggy. Her face was contorted in a mix of pain and mourning. If he could see himself, he imagined he might look similarly. He grabbed a beer and sat next to the fire. She did the same. 

It was peculiar how tone deaf it felt that everyone else was partying on her behalf without her. Arthur realized it was his fault since the party was his doing, but maybe he thought the commotion might give them more privacy, or at least distract him from the inevitable. A hand on his leg interrupted his thoughts. “Let’s get out of here,” Peggy mumbled into his ear. He followed without hesitation.

She led him to the horses and began to saddle Monstro. “I didn’t realize you meant  _ out _ of here,” he chuckled. She shrugged. “I’m going to miss the countryside. One last midnight ride?” 

“To Broken Tree?” he asked.

She nodded and climbed onto Monstro’s back. He mounted Boudecia and they rode out without anyone seeming to notice them.

The night was cool because of the overcast day, but the clouds had moved on to reveal the millions of stars overhead. The moon was full and bright, throwing Peggy’s dark features into sharp contrast. She was beautiful, like always, but seeing her nearly colorless under the moonlight made her visage haunting. The wind from the horses blew back her dark curls like a curtain in an open window and her skin shimmered like porcelain. She looked at home atop a horse, as if Monstro’s thunderous hooves were nothing more than an extension of her own body. Riding a horse was where she was meant to be, wild and free to gallop against the wind. 

He rode beside her, drinking in these last moments with her. He could sketch this moment a million times and never quite capture the way she became ethereal, mystical as she rode into the night. 

They approached Broken Tree and dismounted. Arthur’s chest tightened up as he remembered the last time they had been here together after writing those letters.  _ I hope to see you soon, _ they had both written. They had come so far since those early days but there was still a mountain between them. His heart ached when he considered all of the things he had left unsaid, all of the love he would leave cold and silent when she left in the morning.  _ It’s for the best _ , he thought.  _ It’s for the best. _

They sat down in nearly the same spots they had before, with Peggy’s back to him. Silence settled around them as they got comfortable. “You know,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “This is where we came after our first big fight.”

He chuckled softly. “Yes, I know.”

She hummed softly. “I thought I’d lost you then. I thought you would leave me to starve for being so cruel.” 

He shrugged. “There’s not much you could do to me that would make me do something like that.”

She turned her head to look at him. His heart stopped for a moment, then she turned back around. 

“I thought I’d lost you again when Henry shot you,” she said, her voice going quiet as she relived in the moment that had happened just yesterday. 

He reached out and patted her back. “I know, I know. But I’m okay.” He felt her draw a ragged breath. “Hey, why are you crying? I’m okay.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do this,” her voice barely audible.

“What?”

_ “I can’t do this!” _ she screamed. He flinched a bit but left his hand on her back. 

“You can’t do what?” he asked slowly.

“I can’t  _ leave! _ I can’t leave  _ here! _ ” she said, emotion cracking her voice. 

Arthur shook his head. “You can’t stay, Peg.” 

“ _ Why not?” _ she asked. “What is there for me in Kentucky besides the money?” 

“But the baby…” he insisted.

“I can’t condemn this kid to my childhood, of prim and proper tea parties, and waltz lessons, and a family who doesn’t love each other.” She stared at him with tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. His lungs seemed to forget their function as he searched for her meaning.

“It’s not safe.” he said, shaking his head. 

Peggy stood and started pacing in front of the tree. Her hands shook and her breath was uneasy as she grasped for words. “Arthur, do you want me to go?” she asked finally. “Do  _ you, _ Arthur Morgan,  _ personally _ wish to see me leave?” He opened his mouth to answer but she kept talking. “Because  _ I,  _ Peggy Hampton, never want to leave your side. I would rather live in a tent next to you for the rest of my days than  _ ever _ go back to the life I had, baby or not. I would rather my child grow up with parents who love them and  _ love each other _ than let them ever believe that material possessions are ever worth more than what I feel for you.  _ I love you. _ I love you more than anything I have ever known.” The tears she had been fighting had won their battle and had started marching steadily down her cheeks. “When Ben died, I thought my life was over. But I soon realized that he had given me two of this life’s greatest gifts; my baby, and  _ you. _ ” She threw her hands in the air as she paced. “So please, if you still want me to go, I will.” She swallowed with defeat. “But if there’s a chance… that you might love me too… then please... don’t make me do this.”

His head swam with her declaration, at her insistence that this life was good enough if only because he was in it.  _ I love you, _ her voice played over and over. 

_ I love you. _

_ I love you. _

He rose to his feet without thinking and closed the distance between them as if it was nothing. His hands reached for her face and pulled it to his with an urgency he had never felt. He pressed his lips to hers like they held the last drop of water in the desert. She tasted like salt from the tears. She parted her mouth eagerly and kissed him back like she had been wandering in the same desert sands. She threw her arms around him and pulled herself closer. He felt her body press into his and he had to take a breath. He pulled away and put his forehead on hers. She chuckled for a moment and nuzzled into him. “Never leave me,” he muttered, tucking a curl behind her ear. “I only wanted what I thought was best for you and the baby. I had convinced myself that could never be with me.” 

She shook her head and touched his face. “I knew when I saw you fall out of that wagon that I could never be without you. Home isn’t a train ride away; not when you’re this close.” 

He kissed her again, slow and deep. “I love you, Peg,” he muttered. 

She kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him until the little space left between them felt too much. He put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her closer then let slide down her shoulder, toying with the collar of her dress. She reached up and started popping the buttons of his shirt. He glanced down at her in surprise but her dark eyes burned through him. He said nothing and started kissing her neck while his hands began to untie her dress. 

His shirt fell to the ground.

Then their shoes.

Then her dress.

Then his belt. 

Then her stockings.

Then his pants.

They stood there in the summer breeze with only a thin layer of cotton between their bodies. He had seen her in her slip before but never had he been given permission to appreciate her like this. The moon cast shadows along her chest and breasts. Her belly pulled the slip forward, catching all of her curves on the way. His hands were roaming along her skin before he was conscious of it. 

He kissed along her collarbone as he slid his hand down the front of her dress, taking her breast in by the fistful. She moaned softly when his thumb traced over her nipple. He used his other hand to slide the other strap of the dress off her shoulder and she lifted her arms to pull them out. He trailed kisses down her chest as he knelt in front of her. He gathered her skirts and ducked underneath them, covering her thighs in kisses. Her knees drifted apart involuntarily as his face grew precariously closer to the top of her legs. He reached behind her and grabbed her ass as he stood, lifting her skirt up with his head and peppering kisses on every square inch he could. As he rose, she stood before him, naked and glistening like a star. He knelt before her again, sucking her tits as he let his fingertips whisper down her body. He sat in front of her, staring her belly head-on. He began kissing her legs again, and when her knees spread, he did not hesitate. 

He dove between her legs with delicate self-control, fighting the urge to devour her completely. She gasped and wrapped her hand into his hair. He took this as a sign of encouragement and continued on dutifully. He felt her knees go weak so he pulled them back into the grass. She straddled his beard without question and began to grind in rhythm with him. 

After a few minutes, she was quivering over him. Her knees boxed his ears and he was finding it more difficult to breathe, but to hear her cry out like an animal into the night, he would gladly suffocate. She moaned and writhed as pleasure overtook her, pulling his hair and throwing her hips like her life depended on it. When she slowed, he pressed a kiss to her thigh and smiled up at her. Panting, she climbed off and began to kiss his neck and chest. He laid there, delightfully helpless, as she let her mouth roam over his body. 

She came to his shorts, which were still on, and slid both hands down the waistband. He gave no protest, but he could feel his anxiety piqued as his penis stood to full attention the moment it was freed. She wasted no time climbing him again, this time to ride his dick. He moaned as he entered her, the wet warmth like a long-lost friend coming home. She rolled her hips, slow and steady, and watched for his reactions. He shut his eyes and squeezed her ass, urging her forward and back. Soon, the control they had ran away with their clothes and they were a grunting, humping mess in the grass of Broken Tree. He felt it building closer and closer and tried to pull out, but Peggy held his face. “What?” she panted. “Scared I’ll get pregnant?” He groaned and thrust harder and faster until he couldn’t hold back any longer. She responded to his speed by crying out again. The very sound was enough to send him over the edge. 

She rolled off of him and laid beside him in the grass, her breath ragged. He pulled her closer and she placed her sweaty head on his chest. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said into her hair. She kissed his sternum. “I love you too.” His body seemed ablaze with love and lust but exhaustion was creeping in. “Where should we go tonight?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the exertion. She shrugged. “Do you have a tent?” He nodded. “Then let’s pitch a tent and stay here.” 

They put on enough clothes so as to not offend any passing travelers and built a tent and fire together. Her hair was beautifully disheveled as she worked, and Arthur couldn’t help himself but to admire his handiwork. The fire soon crackled and the tent stood. They laid together on his bedroll and watched the fire burn as they slowly drifted off to sleep. He curled himself around her peacefully, knowing he could finally hold her as closely as he had always wanted. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want to be that bitch that fishes for compliments, but if you enjoyed it, please say so.


End file.
